Just Merry
by Heidi Erickson
Summary: Merry's heart is broken after Eowyn marries Faramir . . . can love find him in Hobbiton . . . but also mystery and suspense as well? Rated K-plus for strong thematic elements. Also Frodo/OC. Mary-Sue-ish at first, but improved.
1. Just Merry

_**Just Merry**_

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_**Fanfiction by Heidi Erickson**_

_**Movieverse, post-War of the Ring**_

_**A/N: Okay, this is my second LOTR fanfic. Merry is my second-favorite hobbit, after a certain one with the most amazing blue eyes ever…oops, sorry, I got distracted there! Lol! Anyway, this one is a multi-chapter about poor Merry, whose mild crush on Eowyn has been crushed since her marriage to Faramir. But, fear not, dear Merry! Destiny might find you love in Hobbiton…you just have to go home. ;) Now, here are the very words I must utter before going on with the story: ****I do not own ****The Lord of the Rings****. All rights belong to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and J.R.R. Tolkien.**_

_**Thanks to ****mecherry**** for being my beta reader! I appreciate all your help! :) **_

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Meriadoc Brandybuck stared desolately at the golden-haired Rohan maiden, joining her hands into the strong hands of the smiling, handsome young general of Gondor.

She deserved him, Merry had to admit. He's a man. Not a hobbit. And Faramir and Eowyn had a lot in common: shunned by life and love for different reasons, a hate for war but desire for freedom. They were a sad, serious, but a compassionate, tender, and kind couple.

Merry bit his lip and looked away when Faramir leaned down to press a light kiss to Eowyn's lips. Aragorn proclaimed them man and wife. With these words, Merry exhaled loudly. Fortunately, the wild cheering of the crowd drowned out his heavy sigh.

Next to him, his best friend Peregrin Took nudged him in concern. Pippin, as most called him, wasn't as naïve as some made out of him. The entire time, he'd known of Merry's "slight infatuation" with Lady Eowyn. Lady Eowyn was intelligent and shrewd, but for some reason, she never noticed the stars in Merry's eyes when he looked up at her.

Maybe the reason was that Merry was able to _hide_ it. Merry was always able to hide his feelings—except for anger and frustration. Merry always pretended what Eowyn really felt—platonic love. Eowyn looked down to Merry as an advocate, a friend she could confide in. A hero in battle, who'd ridden with her, slaying oliphaunts, orcs, and eventually the Witch-king.

Now his "friend" was getting married. Merry knew, of course, it was inevitable. He knew he'd never get to marry a woman. He knew he'd never have his feelings returned.

The problem was: he'd denied it all. And now, because of his denial, his heart was paying a heavy toll.

Merry's infatuation with Eowyn had developed when she gave him the armor in the tents of Dunharrow, when she'd smiled at him, laughed with him, and sent him to the smithy to sharpen his dull blade. At that time, Merry had been entranced by her shining fair hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes. But on the way to the blacksmith, Merry had told himself, _It's impossible._

And it _was_ impossible.

The crowd rose from their seats in the king's hall. Merry was aroused suddenly from his brooding. He scrambled to his feet and looked around covertly, hoping no one had seen him. Well, except for Pippin, who could easily see through his closest friend.

As the crowd filed away from the middle of the hall for the dances, and some of them went to the refreshment tables, Merry followed Pippin to the food. Of course! Hobbits love food, don't they?

Merry grabbed some grapes, a large chicken leg, roasted duck, a bread roll, and an assortment of desserts and deviled eggs. Oh! And malt beer! What hobbit could forget a malt beer?

He sat down between Pippin and Frodo. Sam sat across from Frodo. Everyone was laughing and smiling, except for the hobbits. They only sat, and ate silently.

Pippin spoke up, obviously uncomfortable about the slight sadness among them. "Friends, look at the bright side. We leave for the Shire tomorrow." He raised his large brown mug.

"Aye," Sam raised his.

Merry thought for a minute before speaking up, "I miss the Shire more than ever…it will seem like forever when we travel there. But…a part of me wants to stay here. I will miss my friends…" he trailed off, gazing at Eowyn, who was dining happily with Faramir.

Frodo patted his shoulder. "I shall miss them, too." He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

Pippin looked over concernedly. "Will it ever heal?" He asked.

"No." Frodo sighed. He seemed deep in thought.

A minute later, Sam rose from his seat boldly. "To our safe journey home," he raised his mug. Merry knew he was trying to lighten up their spirits, especially Frodo's. Merry had to admit he did feel a little better.

"To the Shire," Pippin, Frodo, and Merry repeated, raising their glasses.

That night, the hobbits went to their rooms. Pippin and Sam fell asleep easily, but Merry and Frodo lay awake. Merry folded his hands across his chest, staring up at the tall cathedral-style window. The bright moon shone through, casting a light partly across his bed.

Frodo was curled up on his bed, just at the other side of the window. It was dark on his side. Merry could tell Frodo was awake, though, by sounds of his thin, uneven breathing.

"Frodo?" Merry whispered.

Frodo rolled over. "Yes?" He seemed weary, but unable to sleep. "Is there something on your mind?"

"I was wondering about…the wedding." Merry sighed, thinking once again about how lovely Eowyn looked in her white dress with gold fringes and how the love in Faramir's eyes filled Merry with joy but also pain.

"Yes…it was lovely." Frodo said. He glanced at Merry. "I could not help but wonder why you were so quiet and serious. That is not like you."

Merry wasn't sure how Frodo would react if he told him the truth. Would he laugh and roll his eyes, like from the old times? Would he look at Merry funny and shake his head? Would he sympathize with Merry?

"You know, when we go home, there will be many lovely lasses for you to choose from." Frodo spoke, and Merry realized…he _knew_!

"How could you tell?" Merry groaned, slinging an arm across his eyes.

"By the way you looked at her." Frodo replied. "You gazed at her as if she was the most beautiful sight you ever saw."

"The white lady of Rohan," Merry murmured.

Frodo rose up on his elbow. "Rest easy, friend. You will find someone." His blue eyes took on a shadow. "I wonder…"

Merry wasn't sure if he was right, but he suspected it... "You would not dare," he frowned. "I—I do not want you to try to match-make me with…anyone!"

"Like you and Pip tried with me long ago?" Frodo retorted dryly.

"Ah, um," Merry blushed. "Y-y-I mean, _no_."

Frodo blinked, still thinking. Merry was still trying to get used to this Frodo. Frodo Baggins had always been the most serious, moody, and thoughtful of the hobbits…but he wasn't as serious and brooding as he was now. Merry wondered if he would ever change back. If he didn't…well, Merry would accept his friend no matter who he was.

"Trust me, Merry." Frodo smiled slightly, encouragingly. "Who wouldn't want you for your looks and charm? Lasses used to love you, they will still love you," his eyes twinkled with amusement as he rolled over onto his stomach.

Irked at Frodo's unnaturally impish jab, Merry retaliated, "Yes, and they also will swoon over your oh-so-bright eyes and soft, curly hair…" he raised his voice to mimick a girl's. Frodo scowled and grunted, flopping facedown into his pillow. "Good to see you are merry again, Merry." He spoke in a muffled tone.

Merry grinned and relaxed back on his pillow. "Maybe when we're back in the Shire, I'll find a pretty lass to make you smile—"

"Good _night_, Merry!"

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_**A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review! :) **_

_**- Heidi Erickson**_


	2. Strangers and Secrets

_**Chapter Two: Strangers and Secrets**_

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_**A/N: Second chapter! Before I do the disclaimer, I'll do the shout-outs.**_

_**mecherry**__**, thank you for being my beta reader and enjoying my stories, AND for being such a patient and awesome helper!**_

_**Sarahbarr17**__**, thank you very much! Kind reviews always make me smile. :) Keep it up, and don't hesitate to criticize! (Just be nice. ;)**_

_**Araloth the Random**__**, yay! I'm so glad I captured your interest even if this kind of thing isn't what you usually read! ;) I see you have several LOTR stories—I'll be sure to check them out. :)**_

**_Jen Lewis, I'm glad I gave you hope! :) And oh there are several people on who write excellently! Don't give up-just look harder. :)_**

_**Reviewers, do not hesitate to give ideas, ask questions, or correct anything. Just be KIND about them. Thanks! ;)**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. All rights belong to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and J.R.R. Tolkien.**_

_**Read and review. And ENJOY! :D**_

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Merry, Frodo, Sam, and Pippin arrived in the Shire within a month's journey. Thankfully, the trip was uneventful, albeit dull. But it was much better compared to their trip _from_ the Shire to Rivendell!

Merry wasn't surprised at how the Shire still appeared the same after a year. Hobbits weren't one to change much about their lifestyle and communities. The grassy hills over the little homes with the round doors were unchanged. The blue sky and bright sun shone beautifully over Hobbiton. A very sunny place it was. Little hobbit children with bouncing curls ran around playfully, shouting. Hobbit wives swept doorsteps and hobbit husbands tended to their gardens.

But imagine all their surprise when they saw Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took back home. They thought the four hobbits were never going to return—and yet, here they were, back in town, without as much of a howdy-do or a warning letter! Some were indignant, some were disgruntled, some were suspicious, but some also were overjoyed, such as old friends like Rose Cotton and her family, and of course, the four hobbits' own worried families.

"They have no right, waltzing in like this," Lobelia Sackville-Baggins grumbled as she served mugs of beer to her husband, Otho, and their gossipy friends.

Otho nodded. "I thought we were finally going to inherit Bag End! But, ah, _there he is_!" He whined.

"Yes, and with only nine fingers, no less," Odo Proudfoot whispered, casting a suspicious glare in Frodo's direction. He sat with his companions at a table in the distance. "Wonder what happened to it." He muttered, before taking a swig of his ale for his protruding belly.

"Cracked as he was, he probably gnawed it right off hisself," Otho retorted to his cousin. He and his crony friends cackled hollowly.

Across the tavern, Frodo shoved mugs of ale towards his friends, pretending he didn't hear the dirty-mouthed Sackville-Bagginses gossiping about him. He'd been home for barely two days, and people were already talking about him. Not wanting the attention and speculation, Frodo made a point to be as secluded as possible without looking odd or impolite enough.

He smiled slightly and tapped mugs with Pippin, Merry, and Sam. _Home at last._ He thought in relief and almost peace. He caught Sam's gaze, which was glancing over his shoulder—to Rose Cotton, washing dishes at the counter. For a moment, Frodo thought Sam would be the same old Sam: too shy to ask pretty fair-haired Rosie Cotton a-courting. But, in a beat, he was proved wrong when Sam took a quick sip of his ale, stood up with purpose, and strode away. Frodo, Pippin, and Merry immediately looked over at him.

Pippin raised one eyebrow and smiled slightly. Merry looked down and blew out in shocked amusement. Frodo started laughing, something he hadn't done in quite a while.

Maybe being back home wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

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Four months later, Rosie and Sam became engaged. The wedding was set on May 1st in the following year. Sam asked Frodo, Pippin, and Merry to support him and help him, since Rosie wanted _his_ help on planning the wedding. His friends gladly complied.

Merry walked along the pebbled path towards Pippin's home. He wanted to go fishing, and it wouldn't be fun without Pip around. Merry glanced up at the sky; it was clouding up. He hoped it didn't rain.

A rustle from the bushes stopped him in his tracks. He turned around to observe the dense trees and bushes lined up by the road. There—the raspberry bushes were quaking slightly. Frowning curiously, he sauntered over, and slowly leaned forward, reaching in. "Who's there?"

All of a sudden, a pair of pale hands shoved out and rammed him in the chest. "OW!" Merry shut his eyes as he tumbled back on the dewy grass. He opened his eyes, only to see a pair of perfectly pearly black eyes staring at his in fright. As quickly as she had jumped out of the bushes, she leaped up to her feet and stumbled back hurriedly.

"Whoa, there," Merry held up a hand. "Don't be hasty." He laughed, remembering Treebeard's very words, in slow, deep Entish. But the dark-haired hobbit only frowned and tentatively turned around to leave.

Wondering why a hobbit maiden would just try to leave without apologizing, Merry quickly got up and grabbed her arm. "Wait!" Frowning, he noticed black and blue marks on her arm. The girl's eyes widened and she jerked away.

"What happened to you?" Merry regarded her with questioning eyes. The girl bit her lip and looked away nervously.

"Cat got your tongue?" Merry tried to charm her with his smile. But she only narrowed her eyes.

"Can you not talk?" Merry asked again worriedly.

That seemed to start her. "Of _course_ I can," she replied, a tinge of indignation in her tone. She straightened up into a graceful pose and brushed the dust, grass, and tiny thorns off her light blue gingham dress.

"What has you in a hurry?" Merry asked, peering at her curiously. She was taller and thinner than most hobbit maidens and he was sure she was the first one with black, curly hair that he'd ever met.

"That is _my_ business, sir," the girl repeated in a pent-up breath. "I apologize for knocking you over. You sca—" she bit her lip again and looked away.

But Merry grinned knowingly. "Ahh, I _scared_ you?"

She glanced at him again. "Yes." She answered with frank honesty. Merry quickly sobered. "I apologize, miss. You scared _me_ as well, just so you know. So, are we even?" He stuck out his hand.

The lass glanced down at his dusty hand, and then back at his face. "Yes. We are even." She replied softly, without shaking his hand. Merry withdrew it. He opened his mouth to ask what her name was, but the girl quickly drew up her long skirt and turned around. "I'd best be going now, mister. Good day!" She strode off with a hint of dignity around her, as she entered the woods once again.

Merry shook his head, wondering what the world was coming around to. Oh, well. At least Pippin would be entertained by this little story.

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Gwynra Whitfoot quickly padded down the stony steps towards the creek. She had to get out of here and return to Buckland as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, she remembered she'd forgotten her rough straw bags with all the stolen berries, nuts, and bread. It was beneath that prickly raspberry bush. She quickly retrieved them. Before retreating, she took one last look at the blond, curly-haired hobbit walking away. He was whistling, with his hands stuck in his pockets. His yellow vest complexioned his hair.

Gwynra sighed. He reminded her of…oh, what was the use? She had things to do, so she couldn't keep on brooding, and wondering, and wishing…

Wishing that…

Gwynra shook her head quickly and set off on her mission. She slung the sacks across her back and hopped downhill to her raft on the cold creek.

Two hours later, she was home. She traipsed her way through the proud little village of Newbury, headed for her little soddy she dwelled in with her parents and older brother.

Sighing heavily, she opened the splintered, tattered wooden door that seriously needed a replacement. She dropped the heavy sacks on the table, which color and texture matched that ugly door.

"Gwynra!" Her mother came out of her bedroom, rubbing her oil-smudged hands together. Malva Whitfoot was Gwynra's total opposite in personality, but similar in appearance. She has pale skin, black, curly hair, and black eyes, like Gwynra.

"Yes, Mama?" Gwynra turned around and bowed her head submissively.

"Have you got the bread? The nuts? The berries?" Malva rubbed her hands together eagerly. "Your father is in desperate need of his medicine."

"Yes, Mama. I will tell Cec to prepare them." Gwynra nodded. Malva imitated her nods and went over to the table, rummaging through the bags. Suddenly she stopped, turned around, and glared at her daughter. "No _acorns_? Cec needs _acorns_."

Gwynra turned bright red, dread rippling through her. "Uh…no, Mama. I forgot."

Malva snarled and slammed her thin hand on the table, which caused some pain for the elder lady. "You _useless_ girl!" She growled. "Go out and get them! _Now_!"

"But, Mama—" Gwynra already had nearly suffered the dogs and sickle of Farmer Maggot for nabbing his berries, nearly been caught by the old hobbit widows when she pilfered their bread, and had gotten scratches while climbing up trees for almonds and walnuts.

Malva grabbed Gwynra's wrist in a viselike grasp. "Do. It. _Now._" She hissed. She cast a warning glance at Gwynra's bruise on her upper arm. Gwynra gulped, fighting back tears. "Y-yes, Mama." She bowed her head and quickly left the house.

Gwynra tried her best to keep on a brave face as she kept her head downcast. She walked down the paved main road of Newbury.

"Hello, Gwyn!" The mayor of Newbury's daughter, Donnamira Jumpswell, skipped towards her. Gwyn, as most called her, looked up at the perky redhead. Donnamira was one of the few citizens who socialized with Gwyn, while others avoided her. Because she was…well, different.

Gwyn attempted a polite smile. "Hello, Donnamira. How do you do today?"

Donnamira giggled. "Well, I'm just wondering about...how, ah, your brother is…" she looked down and blushed. A rare smile tugged at Gwyn's lips. "He is fine, but why don't you see for yourself by visiting him in his office?"

Mira looked up. She raised her eyebrows dubiously. "I do not know. My father will not want me associating with…well, anyone in your family."

"You are associating with _me_," Gwyn smiled wryly. "What difference will it make if you go see Cec? Besides, he misses your weekly visits at his office."

Mira nodded. "Yes, well, I haven't seen him or you as often since Ada—"

Fear crept into Gwyn's very being. "Don't...say her name!" She gasped, stepping back. She looked around, wide-eyed. "I have taken too long. Mama needs acorns now. Goodbye." She spun around and flew down the path towards the Brandywine Bridge.

Gwyn didn't return to her raft by nightfall, and by then, it was raining in torrents. To her despair, the raft had been washed away by the high tide. For the umpteenth time, she'd forgotten to tie it up! She trudged back up the slippery, muddy hill.

The roads were empty, the sky was dark, gray, and thunderous, and lights from hobbit-holes were blurred as raindrops blinded her. Gwyn wrapped her brown hood and cape tighter around her as she stumbled around, not sure where she was going. In fact, she didn't care—all she wanted was to get into a shelter.

Suddenly, she found herself bumping into a door. She wildly grasped for the doorknob and turned it. She toppled into the dark hallway. The rain kept on pounding at the windows, and the wind howled like a banshee. Panting, Gwyn shoved the door shut with her foot. Exhausted, she lay on the smooth wooden floor.

A moment later, Gwyn stood up with effort. She tugged off her hood, which hadn't helped her at all. Her hair dripped heavily on the floor. In fact, the whole entrance of the hobbit-hole was now puddling up, thanks to her. Nervously, Gwyn looked around, wondering if anyone was home.

Obviously not. The whole house was silent, and dark. The only sounds heard were the wind and rain. But, somewhere in the eerie abode, was a grandfather clock ticking. The faint, clicking sound gave Gwyn the chills, or maybe it was just the rain that made her that way. She sneezed.

Quickly, she padded down the hallway, looking for a room to hide in, mindless of the footprints she was making that could make the home dwellers suspicious.

She opened a random door, which led to an untouched bedroom. The bed had light rose-pink quilts, and two shelves stood by either side, with a few books. An oil lamp stood on one of the bookshelves. At the other side of the room was a tall, wide cedar clothes dresser. The strong cedar scent beckoned Gwyn to enter. She loved the smell of cedar, it reminded her of…

Closing the door behind her, Gwyn closed her eyes, feeling hypnotized. It was her weariness that made her…vulnerable. Willing to do anything without fear or discomfort. She clumsily shuffled towards the bed, removed her cape, and flopped down gracefully. She felt water seeping through the cushions, from her dress and hair.

But Gwyn didn't really care. All she wanted to do was sleep. And sleep she did drift off to.

She only hoped she would be able to leave before anyone found her.

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_**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Review, please, but be nice! :)**_

_**IMPORTANT. From my beta reader (mecherry), I found out that my character of Gwyn is a bit Mary-Sue-ish. Well, I personally tolerate Mary-Sues and cliched characters...sometimes I even like them. However, I've seen a lot of people who hate Mary-Sues. And I don't want you hating my story! *Tear-tear!* Ha, ha. So, I would appreciate it SO MUCH if you KINDLY told me in your reviews if Gwyn is TOO Mary-Sue-ish, TOLERABLY Mary-Sue-ish, or you don't think she is a Mary-Sue at all! I have the next two chapters up, so I really want to know if I should change Gwyn a little or not. Thank you so much!**_


	3. Mysteries and Broodings

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Chapter Three: Mysteries and Broodings

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A/N: Well, I didn't get a lot of reviewers on Chapter Two, but I probably deserve that, since I didn't update sooner! LOl...

_**To all reviewers: please do not hesitate to ask questions, give me ideas/suggestions, or correct me on anything! Just be KIND. ;)**_

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_**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. All rights belong to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and J.R.R. Tolkien.**_

_**Read and review. And ENJOY! :D**_

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Gwyn awoke with a start.

She'd heard a door slam somewhere. Glancing around sleepily, she realized that she wasn't in her tiny, dusty room, lying on her thin mat of a bed. No—she was in a nice, comfy feather bed, with damp quilts covering her. The walls of the room were clean, the furniture was dusted, and the window by the bed had sparkling golden frames. The sun shone in, warming the room. Tall flowers peeked into the corners of the window, and birds chirped from somewhere close by.

_This is not my room!_ Gwyn panicked. Then she remembered—yesterday, Mama sending her out, forgetting to tie up the raft and getting caught in the rain…

"This is such a _mess_! Who was in here?!" Gwyn jumped at the angry shout of a male hobbit. The voice was so familiar…

"_Look!_ There are watery tracks leading to your guest room, Merry!" A female voice called out. Her voice was familiar, too.

Gwyn flew out of bed, jerked the windows open, and leaped out, landing softly on the thick soil. Then she ran as fast as she could through the backyard and into the shady forest.

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Merry angrily strode over to the guest room and opened the door swiftly.

There was no one there. He looked around. The bed obviously had been slept in, the windows open wide, and a book lay on the top shelf, opened.

Melonna, Merry's cousin, came up behind him. "Oh, my." She whispered.

Shocked and confused, Merry walked in. He looked out of the window. But no one was in sight. Absolutely no one.

"Merry." He turned around to see Melonna touching the mattress of the bed. "It's moist. And, look!" She held up a light brown cape, which still dripped of water. Melonna squeezed it, and water gushed out.

"Whoa, wait! Not in here, silly!" Merry held up his hands. In some ways, Melonna was just like Pippin; doing things in the wrong places. Like lighting up a firecracker _in_ a tent.

"Sorry," she replied quickly and went over to the window and hung the cape over the sill. She peered out. "Anyone you see?"

"No." Merry stuck his hands in his pockets. "But obviously he got caught in the rain and decided to intrude."

"Or _she_."

"Why do you think it's a _she_?" Merry glanced over at Melonna. His cousin was younger than him by a few years, and some strangers would oftentimes mistake her as his sister.

Melonna shrugged, still watching out. "I just have a feeling."

"Oh." Merry sighed. Part of him wanted to track this hobbit down and give him—or _her_—a sound rebuking he'd—or _she'd_—never forget. But the kinder, more tolerant part in him said to leave it be. This hobbit must have been in a desperate need of shelter.

"We should get your other cousin! From the other side of your family!" Melonna burst out happily. She always expressed her new ideas with excitement. Merry smiled. "You mean Frodo?"

"Yes!" Melonna giggled. "You told me he's good at noticing the small things!"

"I did," Merry smiled. "Melonna…you still have feelings for him, don't you?"

Melonna looked down and blushed. "Yes." She murmured. Her feelings for Frodo, however, had never been requited, after all these three years. Melonna just had entered her "coming-of-age" year, when all the hobbit maidens got married. And Frodo still hadn't noticed her.

"All right, we will go to his house. Come on." Merry smiled encouragingly at her. Cousin or not, Melonna _was_ like a sister to him.

Merry lived in Hobbiton, although he was originally from Buckland. Pippin used to live in Tuckborough, but ever since the hobbits' return home, he and Merry had resided in Hobbiton, where Sam and Frodo lived. Merry lived alone in his late uncle Merimac's old home, while Pippin lived with his oldest sister, Pearl.

Bag End was just a short way from old Merimac Brandybuck's little hobbit-hole. Melonna chattered the whole way, amusing Merry. He just hoped she wouldn't ask Frodo about his missing finger—or anything about the quest.

Stopping at the small wooden gate, Melonna shrank back. Merry turned around. "What is the matter?"

"It's…" Melonna glanced up at the peaceful-looking hill they called Frodo's home. "It's just that…I haven't seen Frodo in a year." She sighed and shook her head. "When I moved to Waymeet, just before you left the Shire, I thought I wouldn't be seeing much of Frodo anymore…that made me quite sad. Now that you've brought me back to Hobbiton, Merry, I feel…nervous. Different."

Merry gave her an almost chiding, but loving gaze. He took hold of her tiny shoulders. "Now, Melonna Goldworthy, listen to me. Don't you think that Frodo will look at you differently than he has before. You once were a good friend of his, and you still will be. So don't go around worrying, all right?" He smiled at her.

Melonna smiled back, confidence restored. "All right. Thank you, Merry."

"Don't mention it," he winked. "Shall we go?"

They walked up the stone steps towards the shiny yellow door. Merry knocked.

A few minutes later, Frodo opened it. His eyes roved more Merry to Melonna, and they widened. "Merry's cousin, Melonna!"

Melonna nodded excitedly, but her poor face was bright red. Merry choked back a chortle. Melonna opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Melonna always went mute when she was in high anxiety. Frodo smiled slightly. "Melonna, I am _so_ glad to see you again," he spoke as to restore her sureness.

Finally, Melonna spoke. "Me, too!" She blushed again. "I mean, it's _so_ nice to see you again—Mister Frodo."

Merry laughed. "She's been so excited to visit you since I brought her home from Waymeet."

Frodo's nodded. "I see. Why, your clothes look wrinkled and slept in…what happened?"

Melonna nodded. "We arrived into Hobbiton just when it started raining. So we slept at Sam's house overnight."

"Which reminds me…I need your help." Merry tacked on.

"Of course," Frodo inclined his head. "Help with what?"

Merry scowled. "Someone was caught in the rain and intruded my home. He—"

"Or _she_." Melonna interrupted.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Or _she_—slept in my guest room. He—or _she_," he glared at Melonna, warning her not to interrupt again, "left just before we came in. The windows were open."

"And you didn't see anyone run off?" Frodo asked.

"No. The only clues we have are: a brown cape, a messed-up bed, and water. You know—from the rain." Melonna sighed. "But I think we should let it go. She might have _really_ needed shelter."

"I _do _want to let it go," Merry explained. "But…I don't know why; _something_ in me is just…_telling _me to look for that person."

"Ah." Frodo nodded. "Well, we'll just go to your house, and see if I can notice anything else out of the ordinary."

"Thank you, mate." Merry grinned.

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Gwyn tentatively walked towards her soddy. Papa and Cec surely were very worried about her. She swallowed hard before opening the door.

She saw Mama and Cec sitting at the table, eating cream of wheat. Mama looked up, her thin eyebrows and lips drawn together in displeasure. "Gwynra." She greeted coldly.

"M-Mama." She despised the trembling in her voice. "I…I am sorry…I—I can explain—"

"Explain nothing. You are home. That is all that matters." Mama looked back down to her breakfast.

"Mother," Cecilius Whitfoot gave his mother a reproachful look. "I'm sure Gwyn didn't mean to worry us."

Mama shifted slightly, uncomfortable but dismissive. "Yes, well, Gwynra, why don't you sit down?"

"Yes, Mama." Gwyn bowed before sitting.

"This is second breakfast." Mama said. "And it will be all you get today. I'm afraid there will be no elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, or dinner for you, young lady. As part of your punishment."

"Mama!" Gwyn gasped. Not—not even…_afternoon tea_?! She loved _afternoon tea_!!!

"Mother, please. Can't you see she's cold, hungry, and tired?" Cec pleaded.

"No." Mama snipped. She sent Gwyn a pointed glance. "Go on. Sit down and eat your cream of wheat, even though it's cold."

Dejected, Gwyn sat down on her creaky old chair. She fought hard not to cry. _Why do you want to cry?! This is how Mama treats you all the time—don't act like it's any different!_ She silently berated herself.

After she was finished, she wiped her palms on her raggedy blue dress. "Mama," she hesitated, "May I visit Papa, and then take a bath by the river?"

"Go do as you please, dear," Mama coolly replied with a wave of her hand, "As long as you're not in my way."

"Thank you, Mama." Gwyn rose from her chair, gathered the dishes and spoons, and headed outside to wash them up. After she was finished, she put them back in their dusty, cobwebby cabinets, and then she headed for the small bedroom Mama and Papa shared.

She knocked on the door quietly. "Who's there?" A voice quavered from inside.

"It's me, Papa. Gwynra."

"Oh…" Gwyn heard the smile in his voice. "Come in, Gwynnie-girl!"

She stepped in the darkened room. The shades were down as always, so Gwyn could barely see the outline of her father, lying invalid in bed.

"Papa?"

"Come, come closer, child." The shadow of his hand motioned her closer. Gwyn tiptoed forward, and then knelt at the bedside. There, she could see her father more clearly. His mustached, wrinkled face still showed how weak and ill he was. "Papa," Gwyn whispered. "How are you?"

Her father's quaking hands went up to touch her face. "Oh…you haven't seen me in two days…I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I was hoping you might've been up to a little bit of mischief." His faded brown eyes twinkled merrily.

Gwyn smiled. "No. No mischief, Papa. I haven't done anything of the sort since—" abruptly, she stopped herself from saying…_it_.

"Ah…" Papa shook his head ever so slightly. "My little girl isn't so little anymore, is she?"

"No, Papa." Gwyn shook her head. Wanting to change the subject, she started, "Did you like the bread, Papa? We hadn't had bread in a long time."

"Oh, yes," Papa smiled. "It tasted like heaven. Where did you get it?"

"…Hobbiton." Gwyn answered, hoping he wouldn't ask _how_.

"Hobbiton?" The old hobbit's grey eyebrows shot up. "What were you doing out there, girl?"

"Mama sent me there…to get some bread. Nuts, too, and berries. But I'm afraid you can't have your medicine just yet, since I forgot the acorns." Gwyn gulped. "Cec needs the acorns, but I forgot them…oh, Papa, I'm so sorry…"

"Hush, hush, child…" Papa took hold of her hands and kissed them. "You are forgiven. Don't cry…it's never good to cry."

Gwyn nodded through her tears. "Yes, Papa." She drew in a shuddering breath. "I…I need to bathe. I was caught in the rain last night, and…I'm a mess."

"Oh?" Isengar Whitfoot peered up at his eldest daughter with weathered eyes. "Ah, yes, yes...but a beautiful mess, I must say." He smiled. "Just like your mama."

Gwyn bit her lip. Obviously, Mama hadn't bothered to tell Papa what happened to her. Nevertheless, she rose to her feet graciously. "Thank you, Papa." She kissed his wrinkled hands and left the room quickly.

She took a clean green plaid jump dress and a white blouse to wear today, and then headed for Brandywine River to wash up.

"Gwyn!" She cringed at Mira's voice. Mira flounced over to her side and linked arms with her. "Where are you headed off too? My, it's such a sunny day, isn't it?! After such a horrid, horrid storm, I was sure it would…" Mira stopped in her dainty steps, halting Gwyn as well. "Gwynra Whitfoot, what happened to you?!"

Gwyn looked down at her mud-splattered legs and skirt, and touched her madly mussed-up curly hair. She grimaced. "I got stuck in the 'horrid, horrid' storm."

Mira flipped back her fancy red hair, tied up in an eccentric up-do. "Well, then, you'd better go down to the river and wash up, for one of the loveliest hobbit lasses in Newbury cannot come back from out of nowhere looking as if she'd been in a mud-and-water fair!" She giggled at her own lame puns.

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Right. In fact, that's what I was about to do."

"Oh!" Mira nodded. "Good! But…" her dark brown eyes flickered with worry. "…Be careful." She finished off with a hushed tone.

Gwyn nodded soberly. "I will. Thank you. Good day!" She rushed off.

* * *

After a long day, Merry was spent. Frodo came over, checked out the guest room. He found a clue: a single strand of hair. It was black. But who was it?! Then Frodo had elevenses with Merry and Melonna. And then Merry went fishing with Pippin, while Melonna cleaned the house for him. Then Melonna picked flowers for Merry—but some of them were daffodils, which made him sneeze.

Melonna was also a horrible cook. She burned the pot roast, and forgot to bake the bread—which hadn't even rose in its yeast! And she accidentally put too much ale in the stew for flavor, which made them slightly loopy and nauseous.

And then Melonna lit a fire, and accidentally set his pants on fire. Everything was an accident, so Merry felt grudgingly inclined to forgive and forget.

Maybe tomorrow.

Tonight, Melonna was confined to her room so Merry could be alone.

But then, sitting alone in the living room, Merry wondered if that was such a good idea. Listening to the crackling fire and the gentle breeze outside, he frowned and watched the bushes rustle outside his window.

The rustling. They reminded him of…

Her black hair…Merry narrowed his eyes. Now he'd found a suspect. But what was her name? Where was she from?!

He crept towards the window, half-expecting her to jump out and shove him to the floor. But he'd come prepared this time…he leaned over, and—

There was nothing.

And Merry felt oddly disappointed. Pursuing his lips, he crossed his arms and rested against the windowsill, glancing up at the starry sky.

The starry sky reminded him of Dunharrow. And Dunharrow reminded him of Eowyn.

It'd been five months since he saw her. How was she? Was she happy? Was Faramir taking good care of her? Were they already starting a family?

He sighed heavily. Thoughts of Eowyn made him feel depressed. And Meriadoc Brandybuck did _not_ get depressed. He tried to live up to his name—_Merry_!

_But how can I be Merry when the lady I might love is with another?_ He wondered.

"_Rest easy, friend."_ Frodo's words came back to haunt him. _"You will find someone."_

Merry scowled. _Well, I don't want anyone…except for Eowyn!_

Yes. Eowyn, with her pale skin, fair hair, her kind and compassionate personality, her gentleness. The only bad thing about her was that she couldn't cook, just like Melonna—

A light went on in his head. Merry grinned. "Meriadoc, you old fool. Who says I have to stop now? Melonna needs love—and so does…he." He chuckled, glad to have his mind off Eowyn.

Tomorrow, _Operation: Get Melonna and Frodo Together_ would commence.

He just hoped Frodo wouldn't notice! Uh-oh!

* * *

_**A/N: Did you like it?! ;) REVIEW!!!**_


	4. A Dark Mystery and Lots of Secrets

_**Chapter Four: A Dark Mystery and Lots of Secrets**_

_**

* * *

**__**A/N: Again, thank you, my fellow reviewers! I'd do shout-outs, but I suspect I may get this up just shortly after Chapter Three! LOL! Please keep reviewing! I appreciate it so much! :)**_

_**Disclaimer:**__** I do not own **_**Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and J.R.R. Tolkien.**_

* * *

Frodo walked down the road to Merry's hole. He wondered why he'd sent a note saying to come over right away. Frodo looked up and admired the lovely sky and the birds flying above.

_Splash!_ Frodo cringed and looked down at his wet pant leg. There still were many puddles from the rainstorm two days ago, and he still had to be careful to dodge them. He quickly scurried up to Merry's door.

Melonna answered it. Frodo bowed in respect. "Good morning, Miss Goldworthy," he greeted. He noticed her hair was brighter today—or was it always that way?

"Good morning…Mister Baggins?" Melonna greeted back uncertainly. Frodo smiled, wishing to put her at ease. "You may call me just _Frodo_."

Melonna smiled widely, showing her dimples, just like Merry's. "Then call me _Melonna_!"

"All right," Frodo smiled politely. "May I come in?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry!" Melonna moved so he could enter.

When Frodo came in, Merry walked out of his living room. "Oh!" His eyes, just as blue as Melonna's, brightened. "You're here." He grinned in that self-satisfied smile that always meant, _I have plans._

Frodo momentarily wondered what Merry was thinking. He looked down at Melonna, standing next to him. Apparently, she was wondering the same thing.

Merry motioned them to follow him down the hallway to the kitchen and dining room. "Wonder what he's up to," Melonna muttered in an undertone.

"You think he's up to something?" Frodo whispered back.

"No, Frodo, I _know_." Melonna rolled her eyes. "This morning, he tells me to get ready for a trip, and I do—but apparently, _he's_ not going somewhere—_I_ just am!" Frodo chuckled.

Merry stopped by his round table and smiled at the two. "Frodo. Melonna. I need you two to run an errand for me today."

"Oh." Frodo replied mildly. "Um, what errand?"

Merry went over to his kitchen and started pulling out sacks of food. "My old house in Bucklebury has some things I want brought back here. My books, fishing supplies—I'm tired of borrowing Pip's—my raft, oars, and nature trekking necessities."

"Oh." Melonna nodded. "And, may I ask, why _me_? And _him_?" She glowered at her cousin suspiciously.

Merry shrugged, his eyes widened in innocence. "Just because. I want to be alone today."

Frodo scowled. "Fine, Merry. You want to be alone. But how am _I_ involved in this? I don't live here, you know."

Merry went over to Melonna and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "Because, Frodo, I do not wish to see my dear, sweet, and innocent cousin harmed, lost, or worse on the trip and back. And so, I have decided you will go with her. Besides—you used to live there! Brandy Hill is in Bucklebury, remember?"

Pain flashed through him. Frodo remembered his dear parents, dead for so many long years…

Merry's eyes widened. "Oh, Frodo, I am sorry," he apologized. "I did not mean to—"

"It is all right," Frodo shook his head. "I'll be fine. And I'll take Melonna there." Maybe it would be good for him to face his past in Bucklebury. To overcome his pain and memories.

He met Melonna's gaze. Her medium blue eyes were shining—with what? Happiness?

Merry smirked, and Frodo was fully convinced that he was up to something. "Then it's all settled." Merry said, satisfied. "Melonna, go ready the ponies and the wagon." He gave her a little shove into the direction of the hallway.

Once Melonna was gone, Frodo balled his fists. "Just what do you think you are up to, Meriadoc Brandybuck?! Clearly, you do not want me to be around her _just_ for protection!"

Merry snorted. "What? What else might I be up to?" He turned around to head for the ale cellar.

Frodo followed him, indignation in his stance. "If you're trying to match me up with _Melonna_, you're insane!"

"What's wrong with Melonna?!" Merry retorted. "She's a sweet, nice girl. You're just the one who can keep her high spirits on the ground. And she's just the one who can make you smile, Frodo." Merry paused and looked up at him. Frodo stood on the steps. His fists were on his hips, stating he meant business. "You should smile more often, Frodo." Merry told him softly.

Frodo slowly crossed his arms. "Yes, but…"

"Please, Frodo." Merry pleaded. "Give it a chance. Just see what it's like spending the day with her."

Frodo shook his head. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about Merry." He turned around to leave. "I'm going to help Melonna with the ponies." He stopped at the terrace. "And…we are just _friends_. That's final."

Frodo wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Merry imitate Gollum by wickedly sneering, "You'll see. Oh, yes. You will see." He growled and rolled his eyes.

He sincerely prayed _Pippin_ wouldn't try to get involved with the…"_matchmaking_"!

_Matchmaking, my foot!_

* * *

The trip, for the first hour and a half, was quiet. Frodo was surprised, since he knew Melonna was always a chatty hobbit. Not that he minded the silence, though. He enjoyed admiring the landscape, with the grassy green fields and golden crops of wheat and corn, almost ready for autumn. It was September. In a little over a month, it would be two years since he left Rivendell.

He refocused on Merry's ponies, Sage and Posie, and steered them around the curve of the stony road, going downhill. He surmised they were almost to the Brandywine Bridge. He sensed Melonna's gaze move to his hands. And then he heard the dreaded question.

"Oh, my, what happened to your finger?"

Frodo gritted his teeth. "Um, I would prefer not to talk about it."

"Oh. Sorry." She apologized.

"It is all right." He replied gently, and then fell silent.

A moment later, Melonna spoke up. "Do you think Merry will tell me about his adventures with Pippin? When they left the Shire?"

"I do not know," Frodo replied thoughtfully. "He might. Or might not." He only knew of two things that Merry most likely would refuse to talk about: Boromir's and King Théoden's deaths. Merry sometimes had nightmares from them.

"He told me of only one adventure: of how he and Pippin got so tall!" Melonna continued. "I'm almost jealous. He and Pippin are now the tallest hobbits in the shire!"

Frodo chuckled. "I'm sure they'll never get enough of bragging about the story."

"Entmoot!" Melonna giggled. "Such a funny name, too."

Frodo nodded ruefully. "I'll tell you of one thing, Melonna. Our adventures weren't all that fun. It was also dangerous…tragic…and painful." He fell silent, wincing at the pain in his chest.

"I understand. I won't ask you anything, then." Melonna replied gently. She laid a hand on his arm.

Frodo glanced at her. "Thank you."

They arrived at the Brandywine Bridge. Frodo stopped at the bank of the river.

"_Frodo, _run_!" Pippin screamed. Fear and adrenaline shot through Frodo's veins. The thunderous hoofbeats of the Nazgul's steeds pounded behind him. "_Frodo!_" And he jumped. He fell hard on the raft, and Sam held onto his shoulders. Frodo watched the Nazgul skid to a halt, and then he turned and galloped away, with several others following him. The howl and screech of the Ring-wraiths chilled his bones._

Frodo felt himself turning pale at the memory.

"Frodo? Frodo?" Melonna tugged at his light blue tunic. "Are you all right?" Her tone was laced with worry.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Frodo felt distressed that he's worried her so. He flapped the reins to make the ponies start trotting forward.

"It is all right. You just looked rather pale back there." Melonna stated.

"Yes. I am sorry, I was just reliving a memory."

"What memory?"

Frodo gave her a wry smile. She blushed and giggled. "Right. Sorry."

They continued the rest of the journey in silence. Bucklebury was just half an hour away.

* * *

They stopped in Newbury first, which was just barely fifteen minutes northeast of Bucklebury. Melonna said she wanted to visit a friend for just a few minutes, and Frodo was glad to comply.

"Who are you visiting?" Frodo maneuvered Sage and Posie over to the stables, the first building of the provincial little village.

"He's a healer. I haven't seen him in three years. His name is Cecilius Whitfoot." Melonna explained. "Very smart. Nice, too. He was kind of like a big brother to me."

"Ah," Frodo replied. "And how long do you plan to visit him?"

"Oh, I promise I won't be more than an hour," Melonna glanced up at him, surprised they stood so close. Frodo was holding on to Posie's reins, and Melonna was just getting off the wagon. She made the mistake of looking up in his deep blue eyes that always shot electricity through her. And she didn't know if electricity even existed.

"What?" He looked at her curiously. Melonna found her voice and quickly looked away. "Ah—oh, um, it's nothing." She walked out of his way before he could see her blush.

Wanting to be distracted from his curly brown locks and brilliant eyes, Melonna continued. "Cec lives with his parents and sister, in an old soddy just a short way from here. But we'll visit Cec in his clinic."

"All right."

They walked out of the stables and down the wide street. A round water fountain was in the middle, giving the village a royal look. They walked to a line of buildings on the right side of the street. The green part of the array of buildings had a large sign above it: _MEDICAL CLINIC OF CECILIUS WHITFOOT_. Melonna stared up at Frodo. "Cec has been a healer for four years. But he's so good at that that he has been marked as a professional."

They entered a quaint little waiting room. A young hobbit maiden stood behind her desk, holding a feather-pen. She hummed, twirling her curly blonde locks.

"Excuse me," Melonna asked. "Is Master Whitfoot available for a visit?"

The lass looked up. "Oh, yes. He is in his den, just down the hall, and take a left." She pointed.

"Thank you." Melonna smiled and tugged at Frodo's sleeve, pulling him along.

They reached his office, and Melonna knocked. "Come in!" His voice boomed.

"Hello, Cec," Melonna greeted with a bright smile. Cec looked up from his books. At first, his eyes registered no recognition, but then his jaw dropped. "Melonna Goldworthy!" He exclaimed, rising from his desk. Melonna nodded excitedly. Cec ran around his desk and enveloped Melonna into a hug. For a hobbit, Cec was taller and broader than most. _But not as tall as Merry and Pippin._ Melonna giggled.

Cec pulled away and studied her. "Well! You've changed! Have more lads started flocking around you yet?" His eyes sparkled with humor. Melonna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please." _Really? With my plain features and overly curly hair and short stature? Get real._

"And who is this?" Cec looked over her to Frodo, who was standing silently in the doorway. He bowed politely. "Hm. Quiet lad. But he's a right good choice, methinks." Cec nodded. Frodo's eyes widened and he looked as if he was about to bolt.

Mortified, Melonna stomped on Cec's foot. "CEC!" She shrieked.

He yowled and let her loose. "What?! All I said was—"

"We are _not_ like that," Melonna hissed. "Just _friends_!"

Cec held up his hands in defense. "All right, all right, I apologize. I just assumed…"

"I get it!" Melonna snapped. Frodo shifted uncomfortably and leaned against the doorframe.

"So…" Cec began awkwardly, "What brings you here, Miss Melonna?"

"I just came to visit." Melonna smiled. Then she sobered slightly. "And…to talk."

Cec nodded ever so slightly, understanding. "Yes." He looked over at Frodo. "Sir, will you please give us some privacy. We need to discuss…personal matters."

Frodo nodded, looking between the two, albeit suspiciously, but just after a moment's thought, he consented. He bowed, stepped back, and closed the door.

Cec paused, and then spoke. "How are your parents?"

"They are well, thank you." Melonna replied. "They live in Waymeet now. But I live with my cousin Meriadoc now. He just brought me back to Hobbiton two days ago."

"Meriadoc Brandybuck? Doesn't he live in Bucklebury?"

"Yes, but for four months now, he's been living in his uncle's old hobbit-hole."

"Ah." Cec nodded thoughtfully.

"…How is your sister?" Melonna inquired hesitantly.

Cec looked into her eyes sadly. "She has improved much, but I see a shadow over her every day." He shook his head. "And what is worse: Father is dying."

Melonna gasped, dread rippling through her. "Mister Isengar? Oh, I am so sorry, Cec. Miss Malva must be saddened, especially after…" she bit her lip to refrain from saying _her_ name. Her name was like a curse in town these days, she'd heard.

Cec nodded. "So saddened that her manner towards Gwyn has worsened."

Melonna shook her head. She had this sudden urge to find dear Gwyn and give her a loving hug. "And Griffin?" She whispered. "I heard rumors that he'd…"

Cec's black eyes almost filled with tears. "The rumors are true. He has been gone since after…" he shook his head. "Griffin might just be still alive—or dead, for all we know." Almost angrily, he clenched his fists and brought them down firmly on his desk. Frightened, Melonna touched his back. "Don't say that. Griffin must be around here! I'm sure of it." _Oh, Griffin, only if you were here. I would say I was sorry and that I would've almost…_

Cec turned back around and took her hands. "I'd almost hoped you wouldn't come back, because I don't want you to see us like this. We now are considered strange and…_almost_ evil in this village. N-no one likes us now." He was almost on the verge of tears.

Melonna touched his face impulsively. "Do not lose hope. I will always pray for you, and Gwyn, and your parents, and…Griffin." Her heart clenched sat the sound of his name.

"Thank you." Cec whispered.

An unspoken message went between them, and they decided to speak of lighter things. For the next thirty minutes, they chatted about life in Newbury, Cec's possible future beau Mira, which would be possibly only if her father granted permission, and Gwyn's weekly trips to Hobbiton to buy food. But Melonna couldn't help wondering if Cec was being honest about that.

When they finished, Melonna embraced Cec and left the room, promising to visit as soon as possible.

"You had a very serious discussion," Frodo remarked.

"Yes." Melonna nodded. "But…please don't ask anything," she touched his arm briefly. He nodded. "I will not."

Just when Frodo opened the door to outside, a girl with long black hair rushed in. Her pale face was flushed, and her black-pearl eyes were alight with worry.

"Oh, slow down, miss," Frodo warned when she nearly plowed into Melonna. She looked up into her eyes.

"Gwyn!" She gasped.

The girl's eyes widened. "Melonna," she breathed. She stepped back—and ran!

"Gwyn! Wait!" Melonna shouted after her. She started after her.

"No! Melonna!" Frodo yelled, chasing her.

Gwyn ran like a graceful doe, as she quickly jumped and dodged across the street, but Melonna ran like a bull—ready to charge and crash.

"WATCH OUT!"

Melonna screamed when a hobbit on his pony yelled at her and nearly trampled her. But she felt hands yank her out of the way. The hobbit scowled at her and galloped away. Melonna looked up to see who was holding her—it was Frodo, and he looked furious. Melonna looked back across the street.

Gwyn was gone. Melonna moaned in despair.

Frodo didn't seem to care. "What were you thinking?!" He demanded as he helped her up. "No wonder Merry wanted me to go with you."

Hurt, Melonna rammed her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry! I…I just haven't seen Gwyn for so long, and I wondered why she would run off like that…" she shook her head and watched the landscape before her. The sun was halfway down the sky now.

"We'd better go." Frodo replied stiffly. "I will prepare the wagon."

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. They arrived to Bucklebury, gathered the things Merry asked for, and then headed back home. By then, it was almost twilight, and they were hungry. Frodo dropped Melonna off.

"Wait." He took her arm.

"Yes?" She could barely meet his gaze.

"I am sorry. I'm not mad at you." Frodo gazed at her sincerely. Melonna avoided his gaze, knowing that once she looked into his eyes, she would be lost.

"'S'okay." She muttered and jumped off the wagon. Frodo unhitched the ponies and put the wagon away, and then headed home. He hoped he and Melonna would be at better terms tomorrow. He didn't know why, but when that pony nearly trampled Melonna, he'd felt an inexplicable fear shoot through him. But that feeling went deeper lengths than he'd ever known.

Maybe dinner and supper would be able to get his mind off such a confusing and mysterious day.

* * *

Gwyn tiptoed up the hill and into the very backyard of the house she'd slept in two nights ago. She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the window, entranced by the aroma of… _Ugh!_ She winced. Burnt pot roast?!

She glanced at the couple at the table. The male hobbit's back was turned to her, so she could only see his yellow vest—and yellow hair, with brown streaks, just down to his shoulders. Melonna was sure she'd seen him from before.

And the girl across from him…Gwyn's heart twisted. _Oh, dear Melonna. If only you understood why I ran away from you today…_

Melonna looked up. Gwyn gasped and ducked down, scurrying away back into the forest like a little frightened mouse.

She stooped down behind the bushes and stared longingly at the house. Then she turned and walked into the night, which was as black as her hair and eyes.

She hid so well in the nighttime.

* * *

_**A/N: Ooh, suspenseful chapter, isn't it?! ;) Merry and Gwyn will meet in the next chapter—I promise! No more waiting! ;) Thanks for reading! **_

_**--Willow**_


	5. The Raspberry Pie Thief

_**Chapter Five: The Raspberry Pie Thief  
**_

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_**A/N: Chapter Five?! Already!?! Well, enjoy and review, my dear readers! :)**_

_**Shout-outs! :D**_

_**Sarahbarr17**__**, thank you so much for helping me with all the historical accuracies, I hope you'll do more! :) And I hope you still will enjoy my story even if it doesn't exactly go with Tolkien's way! ;)**_

_**Jamimlia**__**, I like how you tell me what you thought was funny in each chapter! Heehee, yes, I love Merry's matchmaking mischief, lol. :) Keep reviewing, dear!**_

_**Araloth the Random**__**, THANK YOU!!! I love your long reviews, advice, tips, and, well, EVERYTHING! Keep me posted on anything that might be out of place or just plain bothersome! ;)**_

**_sugar-rush4eva, *gasp!* Here's an update! LOL, thank you so much for reviewing! I hope you enjoy still! :) If you want to criticize or point out something you don't like, don't be afraid to tell me! :)_**

_**And special thanks to **__**mecherry**__** for being my beta reader! :)**_

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__** I do not own **_**Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and J.R.R. Tolkien.**_

* * *

Two weeks after her last visit to Hobbiton, Gwyn's mother sent her out once again to pilfer more bread and vegetables—oh, and fruits.

Frankly, Gwyn was getting tired of all this. Why couldn't she get anything from Crickhollow? Bucklebury? Stock from The Yale? Woodhall? These were the villages closest to Newbury. But, no. Mama insisted on _Hobbiton_. Hobbiton was almost two hours away on horse, and three on foot.

Plus, Mama was paranoid about the fact that people from the closer towns would already know about them and reject them their food, like Newbury's folks did. Hobbiton was the best place to gather food, Mama insisted.

But she also said she should be there—_unseen_. And get the food by _stealing_ it. Gwyn was saddened at how her mother's morals and personality had changed ever since…that dark day.

But on this trip, Gwyn had different intentions. She wasn't going back home. She had enough of her mother. She had enough of the villagers' cutthroat rumors and snubbing looks. Gwyn was only sorry her father and brother would be worried about her.

Yes, she was running away.

Gwyn peered up at the slightly overcast sky. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't rain. She suddenly halted, wondering if she remembered to tie up her raft. She was about to head back to the woods when she heard two male hobbits laughing and chatting. Fear shot through her. She flew down the path and dived behind a bush.

A few minutes later, two hobbits walked past her. She could see glimpses of them through the little green leaflets and branches. Gwyn gasped when she saw the blonde one—it was the same one she had jumped on two weeks ago! Peering closer, Gwyn admired his handsome features: a crooked jaw and smile, one dimple in his cheek, and messy blonde hair with light brown streaks, all curly and lying across his shoulders. He had a funny, almost pug-like nose, Gwyn thought. But it was cute, too—

_Oh, stuff and nonsense! You stop that at once, Gwynra Whitfoot! This isn't a time to sigh over an attractive hobbit lad—this is the time to do what Mama says!_ She mentally scolded herself.

"Oh, here we are, Pip," the blonde hobbit lad stopped by the gate of the hobbit-hole with the rosebushes Gwyn was hiding among. She remembered what his name was—_Merry_. Someone had said it the morning she slept in his house. Gwyn glanced up at his face. He was smiling. He was _Merry_.

Merry and his friend, a hobbit just an inch or so taller than him, walked up the steps to the house. They knocked. Gwyn inched away from sight. While Merry was blonde, "Pip" had brown hair. He had slightly less handsome features, but he wasn't unpleasant-looking, either. Gwyn could tell they were young, probably quite past their tween years.

The door opened, and a smiling hobbit maiden with pretty golden curls greeted them. "Hello, Merry! Pippin!"

"Hello, Rosie," Pip—or _Pippin_—greeted back. "Have you got food while we help you prepare your wedding?"

"_Pip!_" Merry jabbed him in the ribs.

"What?!" Pippin said, laughing. "You said you hoped to eat something, as well!"

Miss Rosie laughed. "Oh, you two! I know you so well that I already have food all prepared." She grinned at them.

Pippin beamed while Merry rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sure it's a lot better than Melonna's." He retorted.

"Oh," Miss Rosie shook a finger at him playfully. "Don't you ever let her hear that."

Gwyn couldn't hold back a giggle, and Merry whipped around. "Did you hear _that_?" Gasping softly, Gwyn burrowed deeper into the bushes, wincing as the thorns pricked her.

"No." Miss Rosie shrugged and Pippin shook his head. They entered her house, while Merry hung around, still glaring at the front yard suspiciously. After a moment, he seemed to give up and reluctantly entered the house. Gwyn sighed in relief.

After five minures of waiting, Gwyn was sure she was safe to come out. She quietly crawled out of the bushes and scurried across the lawn. She always ran across this yard, into the forest, which led to the marketplace of Hobbiton.

But something caught her eye this time. She looked to the left—and, there, on the windowsill beckoned a glorious sight that she hadn't seen in years.

_Red raspberry pie._

Her mouth watered. She hadn't had any kind of pie since she was a little girl—before her father lost his job as a respectable representative of Newbury.

And raspberry pie was her favorite.

Suddenly, stealing didn't seem so wrong to her anymore. Gwyn took a step forward.

The pie was calling her.

She licked the dryness off her lips. She smiled, walking forward. She reached up to take the pie.

Then she felt someone grab her shoulder. Startled, Gwyn screeched and whirled around, smashing the beautiful, warm pie into—_Merry's face_!

"Oh!" Gwyn cried. "I'm so sorry, Merry!"

Merry wiped the pie filling off his face. He seemed inexcusably _livid_. Suddenly, confusion sparked in his deep blue eyes. "Hey, how do you know my name?" His jaw dropped. "Wait, you're…"

Gwyn never heard his last words. She felt herself turn light, and she was falling gracefully.

Then everything went black.

* * *

"Miss? Miss?" She felt someone's rough, but gentle hands pat her face. Someone else's hand pressed a cool rag to her forehead.

"She's very pretty." A male voice commented.

"Oh, _hush_, Pippin." A female voice scolded. "Can't you see she's out cold?"

"We should get the healer," another voice she didn't recognize stated in concern.

"_NO!_" Gwyn jolted awake and leaped. But she felt herself being slammed back into the soft mattress.

"No, miss!" the female spoke firmly. "You're still very lightheaded."

"But—but—no healer! _Please!_" Gwyn pleaded.

"All right, all right," the hobbit opposite Miss Rosie pushed her back down gently. It was Merry, and his face was devoid of the raspberry filling and crust, although crumbs still clung to his curls and a dab of red lined one side of his jaw. Gwyn would've giggled if she wasn't so nervous. "No healer for you. You just look a tad ill, that's all. Very pale." Merry continued.

"I've always been this way. Pale." Gwyn retorted defensively.

Merry eyed her dubiously. "Oh? Well, what is your name?" His eyes twinkled with mirth. "And there's no escaping us this time, miss."

"Gwyn." She muttered. "Of Buckland."

"What village?" Pippin piped up. He stood directly above her, with Sam beside him.

"N-Newbury," Gwyn replied. She was developing a headache now.

"Oh, didn't Frodo and Melonna go there two weeks ago?" Miss Rosie looked up to meet Merry's gaze.

"Yes. Melonna kept going on and on about a girl named Gwyn…"

"Oh…" Gwyn groaned and laid back. _Fool of a Goldworthy!_ She silently cursed Melonna.

"She's burning up," Miss Rosie felt her forehead.

"No, I'm not," Gwyn retorted.

"Yes, you are, dear," Miss Rosie's motherly tone booked no argument. She rose up. "I'll get you some tea. Sam…Pippin…" she sent them pointed glances. "Do stop hovering and get out of this room." She shooed them out, but Gwyn noticed how Rosie seemed to have a different, softer tenderness towards Sam.

Merry removed the cold cloth from Gwyn's forehead and dipped it in a washbasin. "So…why don't you tell me what a pretty lass like you is doing out here in Hobbiton?" He frowned. "And why were you spying on us? And trying to steal Rosie's pie?"

"I—I wasn't trying to _steal_," Gwyn sputtered. "Th-there was…a fly." She sniffed and lifted her chin.

"Oh, please," Merry frowned. "I saw it all. Came outside because I was _sure_ I heard someone. Then I saw you reaching up for the pie Rosie made for Pippin and me!"

"Can you blame me?!" Gwyn shot back. "I haven't had pie in a long time, considering that I'm a hobbit!"

Merry rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't want an argument, I just want an explanation. Who you are. Why you jumped on me two weeks ago. Where you are from. Your name…" he listed off his stated questions as he placed the cool washcloth on Gwyn's forehead.

"I said I was from Newbury," she muttered, nearly inaudibly. She kept her gaze away from him.

"I'm from Bucklebury." Merry smiled at her. "We're fellow Buckland folk, aren't we?"

Gwyn nodded guardedly.

"Why did you jump on me?"

"Didn't I tell you on that day? You scared me." Gwyn cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Ah." Merry nodded. "Yes, I remember. And what were you doing here all the way from Newbury?"

Gwyn's mind went blank. "Uh—I—I…"

"…Yes?" Merry prodded. He obviously wasn't the type to leave without answers. Gwyn hated that type.

"Traveling." Gwyn gave her most honest answer possible.

Merry nodded, but his eyes were suspicious and dissatisfied.

Miss Rosie came back into the room, holding a tray of tea. "Hello, miss," she smiled brightly at Gwyn. "I hope you like spearmint tea."

"Thank you." Gwyn took the hot cup. She reveled in the sweet smell and took a tiny sip. From the corner of her eye, she caught Pippin and Sam peeping in the room, staring at her curiously. She raised her head and frowned. Miss Rosie followed her glare, and rose up her hands. "Oh—! Shoo, you lads! Shoo!" She scolded, waving them out and shutting the door.

Merry shook his head. "Sorry 'bout that. Pippin is very nosy sometimes, and Sam, too…"

Miss Rosie shook her head and sat down in her chair at the other side if the bed. "When I marry Sam, I hope he will stop doing that!"

"Oh, you're marrying him?" Gwyn asked curiously.

Miss Rosie blushed, clearly overjoyed. "Oh, yes." She sighed. "It's set for May first. It took him long enough to ask me, I think!" Merry chuckled and nodded.

Gwyn nodded, falling into her own thoughts. How was she going to get out of here? Were they going to ask her more questions?

"What's your name again?" Miss Rosie smiled gently at her. "Forgive me if I'm wrong—but is it 'Gwyn'?"

"Y-you're not." Gwyn muttered. "I'm-I'm Gwyn."

"Short for…" Merry asked pointedly.

"Gwynra." She lifted her chin. No way was she going to let them drag everything out of her.

"Gwynra Whitfoot, huh?" Merry nodded. Eyes popping wide, Gwyn turned her head sharply. "How do you know?!" She shot at him. Her cloth slid from her forehead.

Merry raised his hands defensively. "My cousin Melonna was talking about you the other day. She said you ran into her and—"

"Oh, I'm going to kill her!" Gwyn cried and smacked the covers.

Miss Rosie patted her shoulders. "Oh, please do calm down, dear. I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

Gwyn ignored her and daggered Merry with her eyes. "What else did she tell you?!"

Merry's eyes widened and he seemed offended. "Nothing! She said the rest wasn't her business!"

"Good." Gwyn muttered and lay back, crossing her arms.

"You didn't seem like the angry, killing type to me," Merry smiled in amusement, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Gwyn wanted to stick her tongue out at him.

_I used to be more of that way…and that part of me still remains. But only a little._

"Oh, sweetie," Miss Rosie patted her arm. "Maybe if Merry got Melonna to see you, you'd feel better, and—"

"No." Gwyn replied, but politely this time. "No." She shook her head.

Miss Rosie nodded only after a moment's hesitation.

Merry frowned slightly. "How were you and Melonna friends? She never mentioned you to me before…"

"Well, if she is your cousin, then you should be aware she once lived in Newbury. At least for a while." Gwyn answered, lowering her eyes to the soft rose pink quilts. The memories she had with Melonna were bittersweet.

"Oh, yes, I knew that."

Miss Rosie looked over at Merry. He looked back. A message passed between them. Miss Rosie nodded slightly. "All right." She glanced down at Gwyn. Her heart-shaped face brightened in a kind smile. "I'll go ask Sam to hitch up a carriage for you—"

Gwyn's eyes widened, fear snaking through her. "No!" She shook her head. "No. It's fine. I have a raft. I'll row home myself." _Even if I don't really plan to return home._

Merry shook his head. "All right. You're impossible to argue with, so I'll let you go this once."

Gwyn's forehead creased slightly. Why did he think they'd see each other again?

Rosie got up, taking the tea and wash cloth away. "Meriadoc, check her forehead and see if she's fit to go yet." She gave Gwyn a motherly-scolding glance. "That is, _if_." Her eyes twinkled as she left.

"'Meriadoc'?" Gwyn looked up at the taller-than-most hobbit. "That's the oddest name I'd ever heard of."

He glared, and then smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I wasn't trying to insult you."

"Good." He laid a rough hand on her forehead. "Not so warm anymore." He nodded. "Your temperature must have risen when you were stressed before." When he pulled away, Gwyn noticed lots of scars and calluses from his hand, it seemed…war-ridden. Glancing up at his face, she saw he bore an ugly white scar on the left of his forehead, but it was hidden well by his bangs.

Merry seemed to sense her scrutiny and he quickly brushed his bangs into place so that his scar would be hidden better. He cleared his throat. Realizing she was staring like a fool, Gwyn looked away and blushed.

"You know, if you really want that pie, you can have it," Merry suggested. "Really?!" Gwyn looked up at him.

"Sure." Merry smiled at her. "You liked it so much you almost stole it."

Ashamed, Gwyn looked down. "I really am sorry. Forgive me, please."

Merry shrugged. "I'm not really mad at you anymore. I don't have a reason for it, do I?"

"No." Gwyn shook her head. After a moment's pause, she got up to a sitting position and removed the covers from her. Merry frowned, realizing what she was going to do. "Whoa, you can't leave yet," Merry rose quickly and took her arm.

Gwyn froze, and spoke quickly. "No, I have to go!"

Merry saw the panic in her eyes, the same fearful, sorrowful emotion that always stayed in those black eyes. Feeling bad that he'd distressed her, he let go. "All right."

Gwyn stepped around him, found her white shawl with fringes knotted at the edges and an asymmetrical pattern of daisies all over, and wrapped it around her. She smiled at Merry—it was a small, slightly nervous smile, but Merry saw how lovely she was when she smiled. Gwyn inhaled deeply. "Uh…maybe you need to show me out." She said.

"Oh, yes," Merry snapped out of his reverie and walked to the door. "I like your shawl, by the way. Did you make it?"

Gwyn pulled the shawl tighter around her. "Actually, no…" she lowered her eyes. "Someone made it for me long ago." Once again, her eyes saddened and went distant.

Merry nodded. Whoever Gwyn was, she sure did have a past she probably didn't want anyone to know.

"I have a cape, too," Gwyn spoke up. "It's a sinopia red, but it looks more like brown. It's flannel, but I lost it the night I went to your—" Gwyn halted herself, horror flashing through her. _BIG-MOUTH! _She silently screamed.

Shock flooded Merry, and then anger extinguished it. "It was _you_," He stated in a low tone. He scowled. "You _snuck_ in my house that night!" His voice rose.

"I'm _sorry_—" Gwyn whimpered, stepping back. She felt the door for the knob.

Merry clenched his fists. "I can't believe you would invade my home like that, leave a mess, and—"

Indignation aroused Gwyn's darker side. "Well," she retorted sharply, "I've met you once, I've met you twice, and I can easily infer that you are the most selfish, bipolar, and—and—a BRANDYBUCK!" She was too angry to think. She opened the door abruptly, just as Miss Rosie came in and nearly bumped into her.

"Oh!" Miss Rosie exclaimed. Her hands flew to her chest. "I—I heard raised voices—"

"Ask him!" Gwyn told her, trying to be as civil as possible. She looked down the hallway, and saw the door to outside. She swiftly made her way there, struggling not to cry.

She slammed the door open and left it ajar as she stormed down Miss Rosie's stone steps.

"Wait."

Gwyn stopped at that soft, contrite voice. She turned around slowly, to see Merry standing in the doorway, holding onto the doorframes.

His face clearly was guilty. "I'm sorry, Miss Whitfoot." He took one step down. Miss Rosie came up behind him and gazed at Gwyn with concern.

Merry continued, "I…I am not a generous person, you are right? But…if the circumstances had been that you asked me to take shelter in my home…I would have let you. But…because you were in desperate need of shelter…then, I forgive you. I have no reason to be angry at you. By the way…I _am_ a Brandybuck." He blinked, waiting anxiously for Gwyn's response.

Her response was nothing he'd expected. She straightened up gracefully, lifted her chin regally, and replied in a gentle tone. She spoke as if she was the queen of Gondor. "Mr. _Brandybuck_. What I said to you were words of thoughtless anger and spite. I was in desperate need of shelter, yes, but I never wanted to anger you about it. And…" she drew in a shaky breath. "…The name Miss Whitfoot will not be known in the villages of The Water." Slight worry appeared in her eyes. "No one will know who I am—ever. I am Gwyn, simple as that." She looked over Merry's shoulders to Rosie. "Thank you for the tea, Miss Rosie. And, Merry…I don't want the pie. I don't deserve it." She finished off with a tiny nod and a flattened smile. "I apologize." She turned around to leave.

Merry didn't want her to go. "Wait—Gwyn."

She looked back at him, bewildered.

"Will we—will I see you again?" Merry inquired.

Gwyn stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes bespoke of certainty but sorrow. "No." She finally replied. "I think not. It would be better that way." With that, she left.

Rosie and Merry watched Gwyn walk off, Her gait appeared slow, as if she was sad.

"The poor girl!" Rosie fretted as she and Merry came back in. Sam and Pippin ran into the hallway, bumping and tousling each other.

"We saw her leave!" Pippin burst out curiously. "Who is she? Why was she so scared? Is she okay? Why did she yell at you?"

"_Pippin!_" Merry snapped. Pippin immediately clammed again. The four hobbits looked at each other silently. Then Pippin started again. "Why did you yell at her? How old is—"

"_Pip._" Merry booked his tone with no argument. "Stop."

"Okay." He muttered almost glumly.

After another moment, Sam spoke up quietly. "Maybe you can help her." He told Merry.

"I don't know." Merry shrugged dubiously. "She doesn't seem like she wants it."

"But you should try," Rosie glanced at Merry reproachfully. "She really seemed scared and sad."

Merry nodded. "Yes…" He set his shoulders. "Tomorrow. Frodo, Melonna, and I will go to Newbury to find her."

Pippin peered at him hopefully. "…Can I come?"

Merry narrowed his eyes. Pippin got the message and looked down.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, good luck, Merry."

Merry smiled at his friends. "Thanks."

Tomorrow.

* * *

_**O vey! Where will Gwyn go?! Back home…or will she just disappear?! Will she ever see Merry again?! What is going on with her past?! Isn't the suspense too much for you?!**_

_**A/N: Chapter Six might take longer to be published, but I plan to make it that way! With five chapters up already, I'd like to give my reviewers some space, lol. ;)**_

**_Feel free to comment, criticize, and/or ask me questions, and I will gladly accept and answer them! :) (Wow, cool alliterations... ;)_**

_**If there's there anything you guys think could be improved in this story, tell me! What did you like or not like about it? I'd love to hear what you think!**_

_**--Willow**_


	6. Questions Asked and Unanswered

_**Chapter Six: Questions Asked and Unanswered**_

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_**A/N: Yay! Chapter Six! Just so you guys know, I like to keep things slow-paced in the story, so I'm sorry if you think this is getting boring! Tell me if you think it IS getting along too slow! :)**_

**_Lots of hobbit drama in this chapter...LOL! Fasten your seat belts! But I warn you...things in this chapter are going kind of slowly, but you will be asking a few more questions by the end!_**

_**Shout-out drill! Forward and march! ;)**_

_**Jamimlia, thanks! Yes, oh, yes…I just LOVE to put in all the suspense and mystery in my readers' minds…muahahaha. LOL. And, yes, don't you just LOVE Pippin?! I know I do, ha, ha. Too bad he ain't in this chapter. Hopefully the next one! ;)**_

_**Eruanna Undomiel, yay! A new reviewer! You have no idea how that makes me SO happy! :D And thank you for your insight on Gwyn! I'm glad you like her! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update!**_

_**LadyHeron, hi! I missed you! Which might sound creepy of me, of course…anyway, thanks! Aww, I'm glad you missed my stories! Well, no more missing for you now! :)**_

_**sugar-rush4eva, no problem! Just put the story on alert if you want to! ;) Glad you're still enjoying, and you're welcome! :D**_

**_And I wonder where Araloth the Random is! Ara, if you're reading this, I hope you still enjoy my story! :)_**

_**And thanks to those who alerted and/or favored my story! :)**_

_**mecherry didn't beta-read this chapter...she was busy so I decided not to give her any extra work. :) Still, I'd like to thank her for sticking with me thick and thin! (Not sure how the saying goes correctly, but oh well, lol...)**_

* * *

_**Disclaimer:**__** I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**_

_**And now, FINALLY, the chapter you all have been waiting for….are you going to kill me now? ;)**_

* * *

When morning arrived bright and early, Merry and Melonna went over to Frodo's home and the three got on his wagon, and they rode to Newbury.

While Frodo kept his usual quiet demeanor, Merry and Melonna chattered like a couple of woodpeckers. Frodo wanted to reach over and tape their mouths shut. _I guess sitting between them was a bad idea,_ he groaned inwardly.

They now were arguing over Melonna's cooking. Merry wanted to hire cook, while Melonna insisted her cooking wasn't _that_ bad.

"Is _too_!" Merry shot back for the third time. "Your cooking is just as horrid as Lady Eowyn's, and that's the only downside of her!"

Frodo grunted in frustration. "_Merry!_" He snapped. "_Melonna! Please._ I'm trying to steer the ponies, and you two are _distracting me_."

"Sorry." The two replied in unison. Frodo rolled his eyes.

As expected, two minutes later, Melonna had to open her mouth and let her pride take its reins once again. "I still think if you give me a few more chances, I'll improve!" She sniffed indignantly and straightened her spine.

"No, Melonna, I think you should stick to the housecleaning, and I'll just get Rosie to do the cooking. Or Sam!" Merry declared and straightened up, too.

"You two are acting like _tweens_. _Stop it._" Frodo warned them. "I mean it!"

Melonna sighed in defeat and threw up her hands. "Oh, all right then. I have no idea who this Lady Eowyn is, anyway."

"She's the White Lady of Rohan," Merry explained. "She was…a friend of mine." He looked away. Frodo knew he was trying to hide his true feelings.

"Oh," Melonna replied. "Where is Rohan? Is she a queen?"

"No," Merry replied. "She…married the steward of Gondor, Faramir." Frodo could tell Merry was struggling against his feelings. Sympathy flowed through him.

"Oh. What was she like, Merry?" Melonna prodded on; unaware of how the questioning was getting on Merry's last nerve.

"She—" Merry replied, tone curt. He made an obvious attempt to calm himself, and then he replied, "She was like no one you ever met, _Melonna_." He said her name with a final warning. Melonna's face turned pink, finally realizing how annoyed Merry was getting.

"I see." She replied, pressing her lips together tightly, and she looked away.

Finally, the two were quiet, but now Frodo wondered which was worse—the two bickering, or feeling an awkward tension between the two.

He wondered why they were acting so bitter to each other.

When they arrived in Newbury, Frodo observed the villagers. All of them seemed rather normal and cheerful-like folk, talking to each other as they passed by. In the middle of the town circle was a fountain. Hobbit children threw coins in it. Frodo took in the friendly atmosphere as he steered the ponies to a stop at the stables.

Melonna hopped off, and then Frodo, while Merry took off from the other side. "I wonder where she lives," Merry muttered.

"Her family lives in that little gray soddy down there," Melonna answered, pointing down the wide street to a sad, dreary house of sod, standing next to a tall building with the sign APOTHECARY.

"Are they poor?" Merry asked, walking over. Frodo listened silently while he tied up Strider, named after King Aragorn, and Arwen, after his wife, who saved his life from the Nazgul—Frodo shook his head, wiping away the traumatic memory.

"Not poor…" Melonna replied softly, falling into thought. "Well, yes. But don't talk about it to them, Merry. They're awful sensitive about it."

Merry frowned. "Is that all you will tell me about Gwyn?"

"Yes." Melonna lifted her chin. "The rest is for you to ask someone else, Merry, and that's why you're here, isn't it? But don't expect anyone to give you any answers."

Merry shook his head and walked to the back of the wagon, taking out Gwyn's brown cloak. "I just want to return her this and see if she's all right! What's the problem with knowing her…'secrets'?!" His tone was edgy once again.

Frodo sighed and spoke up, "Merry, what's the matter with you?"

"Oh, he's just still miffed about the eggs I served him for breakfast." Melonna cut in bitterly. "Can't a hobbit hold down some egg shells in his stomach?!"

"Apparently, I can't!" Merry shot back.

"Merry! Melonna!" Anger rose up in Frodo. "If you don't stop this fighting this instant—I will go home _without you_!"

Melonna's dark blue eyes widened and she leaned back slightly. "Well!" She sniffed indignantly and spun on her heel and strode off.

Merry huffed and wrapped the cloak across his arm and followed his cousin. Frodo followed. "Is this morning's breakfast really what making you so mad?" Frodo asked quietly.

"No." Merry answered slowly. "I just don't like that Melonna knows things about Gwyn and won't tell me. I don't like hearing about secrets and not finding out about them. I like answers and truths."

Frodo nodded. He was the opposite—he liked to keep to himself, and when others had secrets, he didn't care to find out about them. Ever since the quest, he never had been the same.

Melonna entered Cecilius Whitfoot's clinic, with the males far behind. Merry saw the sign above. "Hey, I wonder if the healer's Gwyn's relative…" he spoke aloud. "She has the same last name."

They entered the waiting room, to see Melonna talking with the blonde secretary. "…Yes? Thank you." Melonna smiled pleasantly, and Frodo noticed how her dimples showed, giving her face a lovelier appearance. Frodo blinked quickly, wondering where those thoughts just came from.

Melonna faced Merry and Frodo. "Do you mind if you wait here? I need to speak to Cec and see where we can find Gwyn."

"Won't she be in her home?" Merry inquired, brow furrowed.

"If she is, we won't be welcome." Melonna answered and left. The mysterious answer only gave once another frustrating question about Gwynra Whitfoot. Frodo had met her only briefly, but after hearing Merry and Melonna's stories, he was just as intrigued as Merry. The only difference was: Merry wanted answers. Frodo didn't want to meddle.

"You may seat yourselves," the secretary rose slightly from her seat and motioned to the benches across the room. Frodo bowed his thanks and he and Merry gratefully sat down on the nicely cushioned seats. Long trips with their backsides on a bouncy, hard wagon seat did wonders to their bones and muscles.

Just three minutes later, the door down the hall opened, and Frodo could see the silhouettes of Melonna and Cec walking briskly towards them. When they came to the light, Frodo saw that Cec seemed agitated and almost angry, and Melonna seemed apprehensive and anxious.

Cec frowned deeply and pointed at Merry. He looked up with a bewildered expression.

"You, Meriadoc Brandybuck?!"

"Yes?" Merry rose up and Frodo did the same, just in case anyone needed support.

"Where is my sister?!" Cec barked. Merry's eyes widened. Then Frodo realized Gwyn was Cec's sister.

"I don't know—" Merry started. "She left yesterday…from a friend's house."

"Melonna told me, yes," Cec's black eyes turned threatening. "What was she doing there? Why was she there?"

Merry seemed a bit irritated at Cec's manner. "I could ask the same thing, Master Whitfoot. I tell you this, we came to see if she was all right, and Melonna here said you could help." He cast a pointed glance at Melonna. She shrugged apologetically.

Cec shook his head. "I cannot help strangers."

"Merry's hardly a stranger, why, he's my cousin—" Melonna quickly put in, but Cec held up a hand.

"No, Melonna." He turned to her. "You were wrong to come to me for help…" he leaned closer and whispered something inaudible. Melonna's face turned pink, from embarrassment or guilt, Frodo didn't know.

Merry leaned sideways to Frodo. "What did he say?"

"I don't know." Frodo whispered back.

Cec looked at them again. "Why do you want to know?" He asked Merry, placing his dark hands on his wide leather belt around his waist.

Merry hesitated. "I'm—not sure, but…I'm concerned for her. You see, sir, one night she snuck into my home and slept there when it was storming outside. She left before I found her, and…I didn't see her again for two weeks. Yesterday, she, ah, tried to nab some pie, and I caught her. She fainted, and my friends and I could tell she was very troubled, so I decided to see if she needed help, and I want answers to why she…seems so troubled."

Cec was silent for a long moment. Frodo could almost see the wheels in his head turning. Finally, he answered.

"You won't be getting any answers from me, or from the rest of Newbury, Master Brandybuck."

At that moment, Melonna's warning words from earlier came true.

Merry was undaunted, but he did seem discouraged. Frodo almost wanted to ask about Gwyn to help Merry out, but kept silent.

"At least let me know where she is," Merry half-pleaded quietly.

"You can't." Cec replied grimly and curtly.

"Why _not_?" Melonna looked up at him sharply, seemingly slightly insulted.

"Because, she's _missing_." Cec's reluctant, worried answer came.

"Missing? How? When?" Merry's eyes widened. His words reminded Frodo of his own, echoing to him from the deeper parts of his dark memories…when he asked Faramir of where Boromir was, before he found out he was dead.

"As one of the last people who saw her, I was hoping _you'd_ tell me." Cec retorted stiffly. He sounded just like Captain Faramir just then.

Merry shook his head and Melonna threw up her hands helplessly. "Merry told me yesterday Gwyn just left Miss Rosie's house—alone. Walked down a path and didn't return."

Cec closed his eyes and sighed wearily. Frodo recognized the posture and face of a deeply worried brother after his own little sister.

"This isn't the first time, is it, Cec?" Melonna commented quietly.

"No." Cec shook his head and sat down in a chair, and the others imitated his motion. "But she's never been gone for more than 24 hours. So I am even more worried."

"Why did she leave home, Cec? Maybe with some clues, we can…" Melonna proposed hopefully.

"I don't know." Cec looked up at the lass. "Mother sent her to Hobbiton to ste—_buy_ some fruit, but she never returned."

Frodo frowned at his hidden little slip. What was he hiding?

Melonna continued, "What do you think might've happened?"

Cec set his jaw stubbornly. "A lot of things, and of which I shall not utter in front of strangers."

Merry seemed ready to give up. He rose tiredly. "Very well, then. I apologize for taking up your time, Master Whitfoot. I certainly hope Gwyn will turn up soon."

Cec muttered something that surprised Frodo. "Hopefully before folks start to talk again."

What did he mean by that?

Merry was silent, Melonna seemed apprehensive, and Frodo's mind was a whirlwind of questions as they reached their wagon.

The ride home was completely silent, but Frodo still felt a fog of despondency on him.

Merry hopped off the wagon even before Frodo stopped the ponies. "I'm off. Good night, Frodo." Merry made an effort to smile.

Frodo nodded. "All right."

But Melonna didn't budge from her seat. "May I help you with Strider and Arwen?" She asked, keeping her eyes on Merry's departing figure.

Frodo wished to be alone, he didn't want to be rude to her. He nodded his consent.

They took the ponies to their stable, but stopped their wagon by the stable first. Then after the ponies were in their pens, they headed up to his house. Frodo wondered why Melonna was following him. He turned around to face her before entering his house. "Miss Melonna, why are you following me?" He inquired, bemused.

Melonna shrugged. "Well, I'm not in the best mood to be around Merry right now, so…may I please stay in your house for just a few minutes?"

Frodo's plans for the evening were to write more in his uncle Bilbo's book, not to have company. But he felt obliged to allow Melonna. "Very well then," he sighed and opened his door for her.

As Melonna entered, Frodo took off his brown velvet jacket and hung it up. He sensed Melonna enter his living room. Frodo decided to make some tea for her and himself as well.

Ten minutes later, Frodo became concerned about the fact that the whole house was silent. Usually, if he knew Melonna, she'd come into the kitchen and start babbling. But it was as if Melonna had disappeared.

"Miss Melonna?" He called out tentatively, walking to his living room. Melonna wasn't there. He glanced around, wondering where she'd gone off to. Melonna wouldn't just leave without a goodbye, would she?

Something caught his eye when he went across his hallway. He gasped. Down the hallway, to his study…the door was open!

Suspicion snaked into his gut. He strode down to his room and pushed the slightly ajar door wide open. There—Melonna was standing over his desk, her eyes transfixed on his uncle Bilbo's book—the one Frodo was currently working on!

"What are you doing in here?" Frodo abruptly went to her and took hold of her arm. She yelped and jerked around. Her face was pale from shock. "Oh! M-Mr. Frodo, you gave me a fright."

"Well, can you blame me?" Annoyance overcame suspicion. "You were sneaking in my private rooms, weren't you?!"

"I-I'm sorry," Melonna's white face gave way to a deep red. "Truly, I am. I became quite curious, and forgot my manners." Her eyes pleaded him to understand. "Please forgive me."

But Frodo was too angry and inconvenienced. Melonna was in his private study. She had been reading his book. The book he didn't want anyone to read! It held his deepest secrets—like the Quest! What if Melonna told people?! "Just get out of my study, will you?" Frodo's words came out, but he didn't intend to sound them harshly. He saw the hurt on Melonna's face as he said it.

But Melonna Goldworthy wasn't one to be hurt for long, for she always led her hurts to anger. She scowled. "Excuse me, Mr. Frodo. I made a mistake, I apologized for it, but I don't think I deserve this treatment! Whatever has you so secretive and rude, anyway?!" She snapped.

Frodo's insides shook with anxiety. What had she already found out? "What do you already know?" He shot back.

Melonna's insides were shaking with anger. She felt bad for being nosy, yes—but Frodo didn't have to be so rude about it! It was as if she'd committed a crime or something like that! "I'm only at the part when you and the others were at the Prancing Pony Inn in Bree!" She snipped. "And what is so terrible about that, 'Master Underhill'?! What's with this 'Ring'?!"

"_That_ is none of your concern, Miss Goldworthy," Frodo's tone was of steel now. "I must ask you to leave. Now."

Melonna scoffed. Frodo was just as bipolar as Merry! "Polite one minute, rude the next, what happened to you, Frodo?!" she snarled, "What's so bad about the Quest? What of the Ring? What happened to it? Did you gnaw it off yourself—along with your _finger_?!" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she wildly gestured at his four-fingered hand.

This was the last straw. The room suddenly turned deathly quiet.

"Miss Goldworthy, it would be best if you left immediately. Please." Frodo spoke up, this time quietly and with a sudden calm. But Melonna saw the pain and agony in his eyes. And she realized she'd gone too fast this time; she'd hurt him.

"Griffin wouldn't treat me this way," she muttered to herself as she swept past him and down the hall.

Melonna cringed when she heard Frodo call out, "Wait. Who's Griffin?"

She opened the front door, paused, looked at Frodo, and retorted, "None of _your_ concern, Master Baggins."

With that, she left and walked down the darkened road with an air of dignity.

But inside, she knew she was just as wrong as Frodo.

* * *

_**A/N: AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I'm done! WHEW! so, go ahead and criticize, comment, question, and anything! Please forgive me for the delay, my dear friends! You have fill permission to mob and riot at me! LOL!**_

**_--Willow_**


	7. Escape from Newbury

_**Chapter Seven: Escape from Newbury**_

* * *

_**A/N: I said early June…NOT MID-JULY! –Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. :) Apologies…I was talking to myself. :P ;)**_

_**I apologize deeply for the LOOOOOONG wait I'm sure you were put in. I hope none of you have forgotten my story! I had a TERRIBLE writer's block, that's why. **_

_**But that's not the only reason. I was really busy…finishing school, vacations…we took in foster kids recently! They're really cute. I love kids! But they're a lot of work, so I'm busy helping my mom around the house, doing chores and babysitting. :P Still, I think it's a great experience for me. :)**_

_**And last month, the weather was REALLY hot in my state (still is), and I neglected to drink enough water, so suffered dehydration. :P It's a nasty feeling, I tell you. I fainted from it! Fell down the stairs and sprained my foot. :/ I'm very much better now, though! I thank God He protected me from anything more serious. :) I just have learned to drink MORE water during really hot times! XD**_

_**Anyhoo, with my being recovered and my mom letting me stay off the hook for a while, I am able to write. :)**_

_**I'd like to thank LadyDorothy, Araloth the Random, Eruanna Undomiel, Jamimlia, estie793, Sugar Rush4eva, Karm Starkiller, coconut994777, Jen Lewis, redxlover, Sarahbarr17, and mecherry for being very patient with me in the long wait! I hope none of you have lost interest in this story! :)**_

_**Thanks to Karm Starkiller for being my latest reviewer! :D I appreciate your tips; please keep them coming! :)**_

_**LadyDorothy, estie793, and mecherry, I have you to thank for helping me out of my writer's block. :) I'm sure you don't know how you did it, but you still did anyway! :)**_

_**Well, enjoy the seventh chapter! Again, apologies for being so late!**_

_**Here's a word to express how I'm feeling: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! :)**_

_**Many thanks to my amazing substitute beta reader, DancingRaindrops! She doesn't read LOTR fanfics, but she loves me enough to beta mine! Aw! ;) Oh yeah, and I give her credit for the second-to-last sentence in this chapter! ;) And also I want to thank my beta reader mecherry for giving me advice on this chapter before publishing! :) She gives great feedback!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own **__**The Lord of the Rings**__**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**_

* * *

Gwyn walked up to the old door of her soddy. She'd returned home after her attempt to escape; she had tried heading towards Girdley Island, northeast of both Hobbiton and Newbury, and became lost. She ended up going south…she really had no idea what was going on. It was as if an invisible force led her back "home". Home—where Mama, Cec, and Papa were.

It was dawn as she approached the door, the rising sun emanating warmth and streaking the morning sky with pink. No hobbit was quite awake yet, and the only sound was that of singing birds all around the countryside.

Frankly, Gwyn was relieved that she had arrived home without folks sending her odd glances. She'd been missing for...what, two days?

Gwyn inhaled sharply, smoothed her wild black hair away from her smudged face, and entered the silent, still house.

A cold hand suddenly gripped Gwyn's shoulder. She yelped and whirled around—to see Mama's pale face glowering at hers.

"Mama!" Gwyn uttered. "I—" She halted when she saw a different expression in her mother's black eyes than she was accustomed to.

"Where have you been?" Mama scolded sharply. But she did not grasp Gwyn's shoulder as tightly as usual.

Tired and hungry, Gwyn was irritated at her mother's tone, and her secret feelings inside threatened to make her admit to herself that she was bitter towards Mama. "I ran away, Mama." Gwyn retorted flatly. She didn't care for once if Mama slapped her for running away.

Mama didn't slap her. She withdrew her hand and stared at Gwyn in surprise. "Why would you do that, foolish girl?" she cried.

_Because of you_, Gwyn's bitter heart retorted within. But Gwyn refused to acknowledge it.

"I was a fool, Mama," Gwyn replied calmly. "I was wearied by your orders…I do not want to steal anymore!"

Mama pressed her thin lips together. She hesitated a moment before speaking, as though she had changed her mind about what to say. "Daughter, your father is very ill, your brother is busy with doctoring, and I am busy taking care of this place and your father. I know stealing is wrong, but we also know the villages of Buckland will reject us and refuse any compassion. And you know perfectly well _why_!"

Gwyn looked down, knowing better than to speak of That Dark Day. "I am sorry, Mama."

Mama was silent for a minute, blinking and keeping her gaze on Gwyn. She was thinking deeply, Gwyn knew.

Just when Mama opened her mouth, Cec burst into the door, nearly bumping into Gwyn. His face brightened in shock and relief.

"Sister!" he cried, encircling Gwyn with his broad arms. "You are safe! Where have you been?"

Gwyn returned her brother's embrace and fought back tears. "I ran away, Cec."

"Why?" Cec pulled back slightly, looking down at Gwyn.

"She tires of following my commands," Mama replied softly.

Gwyn glanced sideways at her mother, who seemed extremely subdued. "No, Mama." She stepped away from Cec and closer to her mother. "I only tire of doing what's wrong."

Mama nodded in understanding. "Oh. Yes."

"…Mother?" Cec moved to stand by Gwyn. Concern registered in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Mama was never this quiet…or less severe-looking.

Mama looked up at Cec and Gwyn. "Yes. I am all right, my children. I am just very…tired…and…" she sighed and turned away, looking at the door that led to Papa's room.

"Is it Papa?" Cec asked, just when Gwyn realized Mama's uncharacteristic behavior was due to her worries about Papa. She was the kind of person who always hid her feelings.

Mama shrugged her bony shoulders. "He is even more ill, Cecilius. He hallucinates…"

"Can I see him, Mama?" Gwyn burst out, fear flooding her. _Oh, my poor papa…_

Mama's eyes flashed. "No!" she replied curtly. "It…it is most unwise. He'll think you are…" Mama shook her head, eyes dark with anxiety, and she looked away.

"What about me?" Cec asked hopefully.

"No," Mama answered firmly. "I think it is best that only I see him for now."

"Please, Mama," Gwyn pleaded. She had to see him. She hadn't seen him in three days.

Cec took her elbow. "Gwyn…" Worry creased his brow. "They're talking about you."

"What?" Gwyn and Mama responded in unison, hands clenched and ready to defend.

Cec looked back and forth between the two, clearly distressed. "They think Gwyn ran away because she is guilty of a crime. Some say she stole things—"

"Of course I did," Gwyn muttered, holding back the last statement she deeply wanted to say. _And it's Mama's fault._

"Yes, but others say you have…killed—"

"Oh!" Mama cried out, covering her mouth with her hands, horrified. She glanced at Gwyn. Gwyn shook her head frantically, terror gripping at her. _Who said that? Why? I'd never murder anyone!_

"How can this be?" Mama demanded.

Cec waved his hand in frustration. "Swanahilda Banks, my secretary. She overheard a conversation I had with some nosy hobbits yesterday. Swanahilda apparently can't keep her nose out of others' businesses, either." Cec glanced at Gwyn momentarily, "I think Gwyn should stay inside for a few days. They'll want to—"

"No," Mama spoke up coldly. She frowned at Gwyn. "She must leave."

Confusion and slight hurt swirled within Gwyn. "Mama…" she shook her head again.

"I think that is a good idea," Cec quietly spoke up. Gwyn closed her eyes.

"She'll have to pack her clothes…Cec, get her some bread and cheese. And a skin of milk! She'll go to Hobbiton." Mama told Cec, and he responded with a resigned mutter. It was as if Gwyn was an accused convict, and she was running away from undeserved punishment.

"…Gwynra!" Mama exclaimed. "Listen to me, girl," she gripped her daughter's arm tightly and forced her to stare into her eyes. "You are to go to Hobbiton. I want you to go there as fast as you can. No looking back. Go to Hobbiton; find a place you can stay at. And do not return here, at all, until I tell you to. Do you understand me, daughter?"

Gwyn nodded quickly, her eyes widening in submission and fear. But her mama did not seem angry at her…only…

Cec tromped out of the kitchen hastily, carrying a canteen of milk, bread wrapped in cheesecloth, and a chunk of cheese. He dropped the food on the table and headed for Gwyn's bedroom, apparently to gather her clothes.

Mama straightened and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "I will tell your father that you are leaving." She turned towards her bedroom. Gwyn noticed her wipe her eyes with her white sleeve.

Mama was _crying_?

Cec came out of Gwyn's bedroom with a tightly knitted olive green bag of clothes. "Where is your flannel cloak, Gwyn?" He inquired.

"I…I left it behind in Hobbiton, accidentally." Gwyn replied as honestly as possible. She wanted to leave arrogant Meriadoc Brandybuck out of this.

"How?" Her brother looked up at her curiously while he shoved the food in the vase-shaped bag and worked the leather strings to tie it up.

"Um…" Gwyn's mind searched for a believable story. "…A kind stranger allowed me to stay in—their house for the night. I think I must've forgotten my cloak there."

Cec eyed her dubiously, clearly suspicious. But he thankfully dropped the subject as he refocused on the stubborn knots of Gwyn's bag. "Well, maybe you can ask to stay there again." He muttered as he headed out of the door.

Gwyn snorted, following him out. "As if."

Cec glanced sideways at her once again, startled by her answer. "What do you mean?"

"…Nothing," Gwyn muttered, looking away quickly.

"Well, you need that cloak. It will keep you warm," Cec answered mildly, gazing at the sky. The pink hues were turning blue as the sun finally crept over the horizon.

"Yes," Gwyn replied softly, distracted by the beautiful creation.

After a long two minutes, Cec commented quietly, "She was really worried about you when you were missing, you know."

"Who?"

"Mother." Cec glanced at her.

Taken aback, Gwyn lifted her eyes to meet his. "Mama was worried about me?"

"Yes."

That was unexpected. Gwyn blinked and stared down at the gravel lining their property.

"Deep down…" Cec touched her shoulder gently, comforting her in the simplest of ways. "She truly cares about you."

The corner of Gwyn's mouth jerked cynically. "Right." She scoffed. "She cares about me. So is her way of slapping me occasionally is the way she cares? What about the way she glares at me angrily? What about—"

"Gwyn," Cec interrupted, forcing her to stop. "Grief has blinded her. Shame has impaired her ability to really show how she feels. You know she refuses to cry in front of us. You know she won't even hug Father. You're not the only one who's hurting, Gwyn."

Gwyn looked up at her brother. He met her eyes, eyes filled with pity. "Don't think I haven't noticed, sister. I see how bitter you grow each day…I see how your patience wears out little by little, and your hurt is turning into anger. It's going to corrupt you, little sister."

Gwyn had no words to say. She could not fathom the feelings within her, but she knew her brother was right, no matter how much she hated to admit it.

Mama cleared her throat. Startled, Cec and Gwyn jumped and turned around to face her. Gwyn hoped she hadn't heard their previous conversation.

"I must go back to work," Cec sighed. He kissed Gwyn's forehead and hugged her. "Be safe, sister. Illuvatar is watching over you." With that, he stepped away and walked down the wide town square towards his medical clinic.

Gwyn and Mama stood alone on their front steps. Mama folded her hands together and gazed at her daughter with a neutral expression.

Awkwardly, Gwyn swallowed hard. "Um…goodbye, Mama. I…hope I'll see you again soon." She turned around to depart, but then Mama grabbed her sleeve. Warily, Gwyn jerked away, but Mama held on persistently.

"Mama, you'll tear my blouse." Gwyn said, hoping she'd let go. But she didn't.

"Gwyn…Gwyn, listen to me, girl." Mama repeated insistently. Gwyn stopped squirming and looked into her mother's gentle eyes.

"Whatever you do…whatever happens…remember to be brave," Mama told her. "Remember to be my daughter."

Surprised by the last statement, Gwyn said nothing. Then Mama did the unexpected. She let go of Gwyn's sleeve and touched her face gently, a gesture of affection she hadn't shown in years.

"You'll be safe, Gwynra." Mama stroked Gwyn's cheek lightly, and then stepped back.

Gwyn nodded silently before turning away to walk down the street purposefully. She tried not to think about what had just happened. It…it made her feel…

Was Cec right? Did Mama really care? Was Gwyn really bitter?

She shook off the bothersome thoughts and kept on walking. Activity in the village was already starting. Gwyn kept her eyes in the direction of the Brandywine River.

* * *

Merry mused to himself as he guided his ponies, Sage and Posie, down the sandy roads of High Hay, a tiny town just ten miles north of Newbury. Merry was planning to head back to Bucklebury to gather more things to take back to his house. The two fools Melonna and Frodo had forgotten his fishing pole and favorite dagger the last time they went there.

He wanted to pass through Newbury…and maybe find Gwynra Whitfoot there. He knew Cecilius wouldn't appreciate that, however, especially after his uptight attitude towards him yesterday. And he didn't know Gwynra's opinion; she seemed fairly certain she'd rather not see him again.

And that was two days ago. Merry thought maybe Gwynra was right—it was for the best that he didn't see her again.

It had been hard for him to think positively in the past few weeks. With Sam and Rosie running around and getting ready for their wedding, Pippin going off on fishing trips by himself—and Merry had no idea why—Frodo being sullen and depressed, and Melonna being…Melonna, Merry had barely any time to himself. Melonna went around the house, doing all the work pretty well, but they went to Rosie's house at meal times. They'd been doing that since the roast beef incident. Merry hadn't seen Frodo in some time, and Melonna had muttered he probably was just being his secretive, reclusive self. And Pippin…Merry had no idea why, but Pippin seemed to prefer doing things by himself now.

And there was the matter about Eowyn. Merry noticed that he thought of her less each day…but the pain in his heart still lingered. _I'd rather the pain to fade away than the memory_, Merry mused to himself.

When would he ever overcome it? He'd tried many different methods: meditating, working hard to keep his mind off other things, trying to convince himself that he and Eowyn weren't meant to be. Merry even told himself that his feelings were merely a figment of his imagination!

Illuvatar must hate him. Why would the lord of all creation torment him so? Merry shook his head. O_, Illuvatar, please take away the pain but leave the memory!_ he pleaded.

Merry wasn't much of a praying hobbit, but turning to Illuvatar was probably the most hopeful solution to his dilemma.

"You witch! You are putting a curse on our town!"

Merry's head shot up, and he stared into the direction of the holler.

"We heard the stories from your village…the curse you've put over them! Why are you here?" Other voices erupted from the crowd of hobbits surrounding the food market being displayed in the middle of town. Bemused, Merry maneuvered Sage and Posie around the crowd, hoping to find whom they were yelling at.

"I am not a witch! I never—" a voice shot back indignantly, but the protests of the crowd drowned out that female voice.

"What's going on?" Merry raised his voice, but nobody seemed to hear him.

"We demand you to leave at once!" A portly hobbit jabbed his finger at this disembodied voice. Merry carefully stood up on his wagon seat to try to get a better look.

"I need more water! I forgot mine earlier…_please_!"

"Water! You only want to use it for your black magic!" A plump hobbit lass in a red dress shrieked and lunged forward at the owner of the voice.

Merry finally saw a head of curly black hair in the middle of the crowd—the accused "witch".

The red-dressed hobbit and her portly friend reached for the retreating victim.

"Get away from me!" the victim shouted and turned into Merry's direction. Immediately, Merry recognized her—it was Gwynra Whitfoot. Gwynra struggled to escape the crowd, but the hobbits slapped and grabbed at her.

Furious at this injustice, Merry yelled "Hyah!" and slapped the reins on his ponies, making them rear up, hooves kicking. Frightened, the crowd immediately let go of Gwynra and backed away, chattering. Gwynra stumbled and fell before Sage and Posie.

"Gwynra!" Merry backed down his ponies and moved them to the right until the wagon was facing the fallen girl. The crowd stood by the food stalls, subdued and murmuring. But they still shot Gwynra vicious and wary glares.

Gwynra looked up at Merry. Her eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped. "Merry?"

"Take my hand!" Merry outstretched a hand to her, grinning. "You're coming with me."

Gwynra hesitated for a second, her eyes dropping to the ground. Then determination seemed to take over. She got up on one knee and grabbed Merry's hand, and he easily hoisted her up next to him.

The crowd suddenly started crying out in outrage.

"She's a witch!"

"You'll be cursed!"

"Shove her off!"

"She's not a witch!" Merry shot back. He flapped the reins at Sage and Posie, and they were off. _Let's forget about Bucklebury for now._

Crossing a bridge over a narrow creek nearly hidden by tall grass, Merry was careful with Sage. Sage, for some reason, had a fear of bridges.

Noticing how quiet Gwynra was being (not that it was unusual); Merry cast a cautious glance at her face. Her head was bowed, and her wild curls hid her face.

"Are you all right?" Merry asked.

"Yes." Gwynra nodded, her tone clipped.

Merry shook his head. He'd just rescued her and she didn't say _thank you_? "Is there something you want to discuss, Gwynra?" Merry attempted to be understanding.

"No." Gwynra finally looked up at him. "And please call me Gwyn." She wrinkled her nose slightly.

Merry nodded. "All right, Gwyn. Mind telling me what happened back there?"

"Yes." Gwyn tilted her chin, her eyes flashing.

Merry looked away. _Difficult girl._

"It's private," Gwyn continued matter-of-factly, as if Merry was a six-year-old.

"Don't think I can't tell," Merry muttered.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Gwyn cross her arms and slouch. _Now who's the six-year-old_?

After a silent moment, Merry gathered in a breath. "Look…Gwyn, I know we don't know each other very well, but I am concerned about you. Yesterday, I visited your brother Cecilius and—"

"You saw Cec?" Gwyn interrupted, her face paling even more than her usual shade.

"…I had to," Merry explained, wondering why it distressed Gwyn so. "Melonna and Frodo came with me as well."

"Do you know what you have done?" Gwyn cried, clenching the iron armrest of the wagon.

"What?" Worry struck Merry.

"This is why I had to leave _again_…people were talking about my disappearance! They thought I - because of you—" Gwyn spouted, clearly panicking.

"Calm down," Merry held up a hand, "What exactly happened? How is this _my_ fault?"

Gwyn pressed her lips together, composing herself. Then she sent Merry a guilty expression. "Two days ago, when I almost stole Miss Cotton's raspberry pie…"

"…Yes?" Merry prodded.

Gwyn sighed. "I was running away from home."

Shock and sympathy welled up in Merry. "I see," he said.

Gwyn shook her head and inhaled shakily, clearly upset and reluctant to speak any further. "My life back home isn't as peaceful and lovely as most. I was unhappy, so I decided to leave. But then after meeting you again, and Miss Cotton, and your other friends…I got lost somewhere near Budgeford. I was trying to find Girdley Island."

Merry chuckled. He couldn't help being amused at Gwyn's obviously poor navigation skills. "Budgeford is just a half hour's wagon ride away from Girdley Island."

"Oh." Gwyn's face turned pink, and she scowled, annoyed both with Merry's humor and herself.

Merry cleared his throat. "So, what changed your mind?"

"Me getting lost," Gwyn muttered. "I finally came home this morning…and then Cec told me that Swanahilda Banks, Cec's secretary, had gossiped to the village that I'd disappeared. And…well, let's just say that I have…quite a reputation…so they assumed the worst."

"Why?" Merry inquired incredulously.

Gwyn gave him a pointed look.

_Fine. Be that way._

Gwyn sighed again. "My mother told me to leave. The villagers might have tried to hurt me or my family if I stayed there."

Merry was bewildered and baffled by this situation. Why would the Newbury folk hate Gwyn and her family? What did they do? What happened?

"Where are you off to, then?" Merry asked in a quiet voice as he carefully crossed the Brandywine Bridge. He sensed Sage's stiff posture as he trotted across, while Posie was perfectly calm next to her brother.

"Mama told me to go to Hobbiton."

"Coincidentally, I'm going there." Merry smiled at her.

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "You _live_ there, don't you?"

Merry just laughed. "Where are you going to stay in Hobbiton?"

"I don't know." Gwyn shrugged. "Do they have inns?"

"Oh, yes."

Gwyn nodded. "I could…but I don't have money, I just realized." She frowned, bothered by the situation she was stuck in.

Merry bit his lip, contemplating over what had just crossed his mind. Maybe…

"…You, uh, could…" Merry drew in a deep breath before proposing his idea. "You could…sneak in my guest room again, if you want."

Gwyn turned her head slightly, glancing at Merry from the corner of her eyes. Her sharply arched black eyebrows shot up.

Merry's own eyebrows rose, and he smiled slightly, letting her know he meant it.

Gwyn looked away quickly, smoothing out her filthy apron. "No, no, I couldn't." She shook her head.

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Merry replied truthfully. _Okay, maybe just a little bit. _"Besides, Melonna will be happy to see you. She longs for company."

Gwyn stared at him for a long moment, considering it. Then she shyly looked away. "All right. Thank you."

"My pleasure." Merry grinned to himself as he focused on the long road ahead.

He didn't notice Gwyn's tiny smile playing across her lips.

* * *

It was almost time for elevenses when Merry arrived home. Melonna wiped her hands on her apron as she rushed to the window. She was surprised to see a dark-haired hobbit maiden next to him on the wagon seat. The girl looked familiar.

Curious, Melonna quickly pushed her jam-covered hands in the blue and white china washbasin, and then headed for the door.

She opened it and flew down the cobblestone steps to the gate. "Merry!" She waved at her cousin. He waved back, and the girl next to him gazed at her, albeit nervously.

Melonna knew who it was this time. Excitement rushed through her. "GWYN!" she cried out as she followed the wagon to the stable.

Gwyn jumped down from the wagon seat and braced herself for the advancing Melonna. The golden-haired girl ran to Gwyn and wrapped her into a tight hug. At first, Gwyn was unsure of what to do, but then she relaxed and returned the hug. She had missed Melonna very much.

"I can't believe you're here!" Melonna chattered. "What are you doing here? Why are you so filthy? Are you tired? Why did you run away from me two weeks ago? Are you—"

"Melonna!" Merry and Gwyn burst out in unison.

Merry grinned. "Don't kill our guest with your questions." He winked and unhitched Sage and Posie.

Gwyn clasped her hands together and smiled slightly at Melonna. She smiled back. "Why, Gwyn? Why have you not been writing to me? And why did you run away the other day?"

Gwyn shrugged slightly, hesitant. "I…I wasn't thinking, I suppose. I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Melonna reached out and took her elbow. "Are you hungry? I made raspberry jam and spread it on some biscuits Rosie made for us. And we can drink milk. It's elevenses!"

Gwyn nodded. "I am hungry. I love raspberry jam." For the first time, she actually smiled—a wider, more genuine one than her last.

"Good! Let's go." Melonna linked her arm around Gwyn's and they walked up to the house.

Melonna cast a quick glance behind her at Gwyn, who was looking around the hallway. "You've been here before, have you?" Melonna asked.

"Yes," Gwyn blushed, which was uncharacteristic of her. "When I broke in two weeks ago. It was dark, though…so everything looks different in the light."

"You know, we really don't blame you," Melonna advised her gently. "With the terrible weather that night, it's understandable that you were in desperate need for shelter. I'm just sorry we weren't here to welcome you."

Gwyn rubbed her left arm with her right hand. "Thank you." She still seemed nervous and out of place.

Wanting to put her at ease, Melonna took her hand and led her into the kitchen. "Come on. You'll love my raspberry jam. It's the only thing I can cook well, I promise." She grinned.

Gwyn bit her lip, clearly suppressing a smile. "I heard you make a really…interesting roast beef."

Melonna rolled her eyes. "Will Merry ever get over that? How was I supposed to know the eggs were rotten?"

"What eggs?" Gwyn's eyes shone with amusement and curiosity.

Just then, Merry came into the kitchen, wiping off his greasy hands. "The eggs were one of the ingredients for the special seasoning, and Melonna failed to check if they were still fresh or not." He smirked at Melonna. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mmm!" Merry's eyes sparked with interest as he saw the jar of chilled raspberry jam on the counter. "My favorite thing that you can cook, Melonna." He began to make his way over, but Melonna quickly jumped into his way and slapped his hand.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Wash your hands first, for goodness sakes! I don't want horse sweat in my jam!"

Gwyn wrinkled her nose, disgusted by the idea. But she apparently enjoyed the banter between the two cousins.

As Merry grumbled and went across the kitchen to the washbasin, Melonna placed one fist on her hip and chuckled, grinning at Gwyn. "I pity the hobbit lass who marries him."

"I heard that!"

* * *

After a brief elevenses of biscuits with raspberry jam and milk, Gwyn wanted to retire, so Merry let her go in her guest room for a nap before lunch.

"What are we going to do?" Melonna asked softly after five minutes of quietly sitting on the porch steps.

"I don't know." Merry stared across the plains across the street. "She's hiding a lot of things, is she?"

Melonna did not reply.

"Melonna?" Merry looked sideways at her. She was leaning back on her elbows, avoiding Merry's gaze.

"You know something, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"Something that is Gwyn's own business," Melonna answered reproachfully.

"Think she'll ever tell me?" Merry commented, half to himself.

"Knowing Gwyn, I don't think so." Melonna sighed. "She's a very private person; hard to read. Just like…" Frustration welled up in her, and she sat up abruptly, grabbed a loose stone from the pavement, and tossed it across the yard. "Like Frodo," she muttered angrily.

Merry watched her curiously. "Something happen between you two last night?"

"…No." Melonna snorted unconvincingly.

"Right." Merry nodded, seeing that Melonna didn't want to discuss it.

They sat in silence once again, enjoying the mild weather and singing birds of late morning.

What were they going to do with Gwyn? What was her secret?

They sat in silence once again, enjoying the mild weather and singing birds of late morning. Yet the tranquility was somewhat marred by their worries over Gwyn.

Was she safe? Were _they_ safe?

* * *

_**A/N: There you have it. Please, do feel welcome to point out anything, ask questions, and give your opinions/reactions/feedback/advice! I will appreciate it. :)**_


	8. A Day in Peaceful Hobbiton

_**Chapter Eight: A Day in Peaceful Hobbiton**_

* * *

_**A/N: Hello! :) I bet you all are glad to finally have gotten an update of Just Merry! XD So am I! :P I really hated leaving all of you in that long wait.**_

_**This is sort of a filler chapter, but near the end, something mysterious happens…want to know more? I'm not telling you! Read to find out yourself! ;)**_

_**Please enjoy this mostly-fluffy chapter. :P ;)**_

_**Thank you to: **_

_**LadyDorothy (my faithful reviewer. :) **_

_**DancingRaindrops (who doesn't read anything on FF. ;)**_

_**Karm Starkiller (thanks once again for the horse tips :)**_

_**Christina Conlon (you might just be my first superfan. ;), **_

_**Araloth the Random (who reviewed sooner than I thought—haha. ;), **_

_**Isabeau Jones (thank you for being my latest reviewer, and I'm so glad you like my story! :)**_

_**estie793 (I'm grateful for your advice via your PM. :)**_

_**To those who have alerted but not reviewed: I appreciate your interest in this story, and I really would appreciate it even more if you reviewed. Even if you just popped in an "update soon"! Haha. But seriously, I'd still like it if you reviewed. (Your reward is getting a shout-out! :)**_

_**Many thanks to my awesome beta reader, mecherry!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**_

* * *

Gwyn woke up to the light from her window. Everything in her guest room was brightened. It must be past dawn. Gwyn's stomach growled, impatiently informing her of its hunger.

She smiled and stretched out on the soft feather bed, reveling in its coolness and coziness. _Ha! Goodbye to you, bothersome, ugly mat of a bed!_ She inwardly gloated.

_I must be mad—talking to an object like that which is far away from me,_ thought Gwyn, shaking her head and sitting up. Honestly, Gwyn did talk to objects in her own mind all the time. It was probably due to her unsocial lifestyle.

But now…she knew, she was in Hobbiton. A very social village. And she was living with two very chatty hobbits. Gwyn bit her lip. She hoped she didn't drive them crazy with her introverted personality.

Her stomach grumbled once again. Okay, okay! Gwyn thought to herself. She pushed aside the covers and padded to the door. She heard voices from the hallway.

"No, Merry, like I said three times already, I am not going with you to visit him. I'd rather go visit Mount Doom, really!"

"Oh, naïve cousin, if you really did, then you'd regret saying that. I'm sure he's not mad at you! He's not one to hold grudges."

"Did I not report to you of his attitude towards me the other night?"

"Hmm, let me recall…_no_!"

Gwyn rubbed her arm with her hand awkwardly, standing before the two bickering cousins. Cousins who bickered at least…four times a day, from what she'd noticed.

"Well, I suppose I will tell you—" Melonna snipped, turning her head away haughtily, only to see Gwyn staring at her with raised eyebrows."—Oh, hello, Gwyn." Her face brightened suddenly. Gwyn managed a small smirk.

"Good morning, Gwyn," Merry's frowning face had evaporated into a dimpled smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes," Gwyn nodded. "I was very comfortable."

Melonna burst in, "I made you breakfast!"

Gwyn's face paled. Last night's ham…disaster. Merry looked away, obviously agreeing with Gwyn's prediction—whatever breakfast _Melonna_ made, it must be _bad_.

"Uh…" Gwyn tried a sympathetic smile, "I think I'll pass. I'm not hungry."

Then her stomach growled. Merry chortled, seeing through Gwyn's bare-faced lie.

Melonna looked hurt. "You don't want breakfast? It's eggs!"

"_Burnt _eggs," Merry muttered in a feigned cough. Melonna shot him a dangerous glare.

"I can cook," Gwyn volunteered.

"You can?" Merry and Melonna replied, hopes obviously raised.

"Yes," Gwyn nodded, "Not the best, I admit, but the foods I make are filling and quite decent."

"More than _hers_?" Merry grinned teasingly. Melonna rolled her eyes.

Unexpectedly, even to herself, Gwyn smiled back. "More than _hers_." But she then gave Melonna a reassuring wink. Melonna seemed disappointed only for a flash second, but then she shrugged. "That's fine and dandy! I hate cooking, anyway."

"Why didn't you mention it earlier, anyway?" Merry asked. "The ham surely could've been saved from Melonna's overly thick and spicy sauce."

"I forgot." Gwyn muttered sheepishly. "I'm quite a forgetful person."

"That's true," Melonna nodded. "You forgot your cloak here, didn't you?"

"Yes." Gwyn answered, hoping Melonna wouldn't explain to Merry about her embarrassing stories of her forgetfulness.

Fortunately, she didn't, because a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it," Merry announced and walked down the hall. He opened the door to reveal a brown-haired hobbit standing there, with a friendly smile upon his face. That hobbit was familiar.

"That's Pippin Took," Melonna explained. "Merry says you met him once."

"Oh, yes. He talked too much," Gwyn blurted out, just as Pippin and Merry walked into hearing distance.

Pippin crossed his arms indignantly, "I do _not_."

Merry and Melonna laughed.

"So, Pip, what brings you here?" Merry placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I thought you were avoiding me for the past few days."

"Oh, I wasn't, Merry," Pippin reassured him. "I just was avoiding Melonna's cooking."

"_Hey!_" Melonna exclaimed, red-faced. "Is that why you never come here anymore? Because you hate my cooking?"

Gwyn snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. Merry shot her a knowing smile.

Pippin rolled his eyes. "Not just because of that. Merry, I can't believe you'd forget my sister Pearl just had her seventh child. Amaranth was on a trip to Long Cleeve; he arrived home last night. I was busy being the man of the house for Pearl."

"Oh, yes," Merry nodded. "I'm sorry."

Pippin nodded. "It's fine. I fished by myself because I was mostly focusing on the task of getting food."

"I understand."

"You're not as foolish as I expected," Gwyn told him. Pippin stared at her, a bit critically. "Oh, thank you. Hey, you're that girl—the one who tried to steal Rosie's pie!"

"Yes, I am," Gwyn mumbled, blushing.

Fortunately, Pippin refocused on Merry once again. "Would you like to go fishing with me today?"

"Yes!" Merry nodded. "But first, I'm taking Melonna to see Frodo."

"Nuh-uh!" Melonna protested. "You are not!"

_Ah. So that was what the fuss was about earlier,_ Gwyn thought.

"But, Melonna—"

Gwyn rolled her eyes, tired of the endless bickering. Apparently, it was mutual with Pippin, who held up a hand. "How about Miss Gwynra goes instead of Melonna, Merry?"

Alarm blared in her. Let herself be seen in public? And what if this Frodo was much too inquisitive? She shook her head quickly. "Uh—no, no…Melonna should go."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Pippin mistook her alarm as a silly fear of strangers. "Frodo Baggins is very kind. Quiet and sad, but he's a good host and he'll mind people's own businesses." He smiled convincingly, and quipped, "Just don't ask him about the Ring or Gollum."

"PIPPIN!" Merry snapped.

"Whoops. It just slipped out," Pippin muttered sheepishly.

As if sensing the question in her head, Merry gave her a pointed glance. "Don't ask."

"I do mind people's own businesses, too." Gwyn straightened her spine indignantly.

Merry raised his hands in inclination. "All right. So, will you come with me? It's just right up the road."

Gwyn considered it just for a moment. "…Very well then." She agreed.

"There, it's settled," Pippin grinned. "I'll be heading back home now. Merry, meet you at elevenses?"

"Elevenses it is, Pip."

Pippin left the house, and Merry smiled at Melonna. "You'll be fine here by yourself?"

"Yes." Melonna smiled and rolled her eyes. "You're so protective."

Merry chuckled. "So, shall we go, Gwyn?"

"Ye—oh!" Gwyn looked down at her slept-in, worn-for-four-days blouse and skirt.

"Ooh," Melonna bit her lip. "I wish I could offer you my clothes, but you're much taller than me."

"Frodo has his mother's clothes. She was your height…about three-feet-three, I presume?" Merry volunteered.

"Yes," Gwyn nodded.

"All right then," Merry responded, "I'm sure Frodo wouldn't mind lending you his mother's clothes."

"What about his _mother_?" Gwyn replied wryly.

"She's dead," Merry answered softly.

"Oh." Was all she could muster.

"I'll get your apron," Melonna muttered, clearly wanting to get out of this strangely awkward situation.

After Gwyn donned her apron and Merry had his fishing cap, they headed out. It was a bright day in Hobbiton, and the bustle of downtown nearby could be heard.

"So, what was life like for you in Newbury?" Merry wanted to know.

_Oh, no. Not questions about my past._ Gwyn groaned inwardly, but she summoned up the most honest answer as possible. "Um…it was very normal for me and Cec. My mother wasn't as distant as she is now, and I had more friends back then."

"Were you poor or rich?" Merry inquired.

"Not exactly poor," Gwyn replied, slightly irked by this question. "Well…yes, we were…rich."

Merry's eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Gwyn tried to avoid the question.

"You know—how did you become poor?"

"Why do you care?" Gwyn retorted, striding quicker up the hill.

"I'm simply curious," Merry answered, his brow furrowing, in either deep thought or effort of walking uphill, Gwyn wasn't sure.

"Well, I don't want to tell you," Gwyn replied sassily. She heard Merry's irritated _harrumph_.

"Wait!"

Gwyn halted quickly to the sound of Merry's voice. She turned to see him standing by a gate leading up to a hobbit-hole. Merry's mood obviously had swing back to cheery and teasing. "This way." He smirked at her. Gwyn muttered a few words she'd be scolded for uttering and followed Merry.

"This is Frodo's home, Bag End." Merry explained as he rapped at the round door.

The door opened a crack. Two bright, blue eyes peered upon them, and the door opened even wider. A handsome, fair-skinned hobbit smiled slightly at Merry, and cast Gwyn a wary glance—only before his brilliant eyes flashed in recognition. "You nearly bumped into me the other week." He pointed out, his voice calm.

Gwyn remembered these unique eyes so well. He'd been with Melonna that one day when she ran away from them. She nodded. "I remember you, too."

Merry looked between the two, shocked. Gwyn spoke up again, "You know my name, don't you?"

"Yes. Gwynra Whitfoot."

Frodo inclined his head, as of bowing to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Gwyn said nothing, taken aback by his chivalrous manner. She distrusted chivalrous hobbits.

Frodo seemed not to take notice of her cool demeanor and turned to Merry. "What brings you here?" He inquired.

"I was wondering if you would be willing to come with me to Bucklebury tomorrow, since I still need to get more things from my old house. Actually, I was going to have Melonna go with you, but…" he shook his head. Gwyn noticed the way Frodo stiffened when he heard Melonna's name.

"I'm willing to go with _you_," Frodo answered politely. Gwyn wondered why Frodo and Melonna seemed to dislike each other. They looked just fine in her last encounter with them.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened between you two?" Merry muttered, annoyed.

"Yes." Frodo answered calmly, but there was a warning in his eyes.

Merry shook his head. "I thought you were a forgiving person. What did Melonna do? Or _you_?"

Frodo sighed. "I will tell you…but I'd rather that Miss Whitfoot didn't hear this discussion." He sent her an apologetic look.

As much as Gwyn wanted to be in the know, she still respected others' privacies. "All right." She glanced up at Merry. "I'll be heading back to your house, if you don't mind."

Merry smiled teasingly. "All right—just don't get lost."

Gwyn blushed madly and whirled around on her heel, stalking down the steps. She could sense Merry's gaze on her.

Gwyn calmed down after she left Bag End and made her way downhill. She reveled in the cool breeze which eclipsed this warm day. Listening to birds chirping, she hummed and let her minds wander as well her steps did.

About half an hour later, Gwyn came upon a quiet bend on the road and approached a unfamiliar house. She turned around, searching for Merry's house.

It was nowhere to be seen. Gwyn turned around again, scanning the landline. But this was a dead end, with the house on the left being the last one. Before her stood the forest.

"Oh, no," she sighed. She'd lost her way once again, and Merry would surely never let her hear the end of this.

"Miss?"

Startled, Gwyn jumped and turned around to face a stocky hobbit with golden blonde hair with brown streaks. He gazed at her curiously, holding a miniature shovel in his hand.

"Hey, I remember you," he smiled shyly. "You're Gwyn, the lass who tried to steal my Rosie's—"

"Raspberry pie," Gwyn chorused, finishing with him and rolling her eyes.

"I take that people have been telling you quite a lot recently?" The male hobbit asked with a half amused half sympathetic smile.

"Yes." Gwyn nodded wearily. "What's your name, by the way? I'm afraid it has slipped my mind."

"Samwise Gamgee, but you can call me Sam. Everybody does." His round face brightened and he puffed out his chest, sticking out his hand. "Pleased to meet you again, Miss Gwyn."

Gwyn cautiously shook his head only for a brief second and smiled slightly. "No hard feelings about my stealing 'your Rosie's' pie?"

Sam visibly blushed. "Of course. No hard feelings."

"That's good." Gwyn answered, not knowing what else to say—and then she recalled her goal. "Oh! Do you know where Merry lives?"

"Why, yes," Sam nodded. "And I'd warrant you done right past his home. Just right up there, about fifteen minutes' walk."

Gwyn inwardly berated herself. _You and your foolhardy daydreaming!_

"I can bring you back, if you want," Sam kindly offered, "That is, after I get my gardening done. I'm a gardener."

"I'd appreciate that," Gwyn nodded. "But please don't tell Merry."

Sam smiled knowingly. "Aw, he doesn't mean a thing by his teasing, Miss Gwyn. He pokes fun at everybody."

Gwyn shrugged. "I'm not much of a fun person."

Sam didn't answer. He probably agreed and didn't want to offend her. Gwyn held back a snort. Shy hobbits made her distrustful as well.

"Would you like to help me with weeding while you wait?" Sam asked with a hopeful smile.

"Fine and dandy," Gwyn shrugged, imitating Melonna's words from earlier, and hopped over the fence instead of going through the gate.

"Do you know how to weed?"

The unexpected question halted Gwyn's hand from reaching for a tall, smooth stalk coming up from one corner of Sam's large garden.

Gwyn bent her back up, giving Sam a quizzical glance. He stood at the other end of the garden, looking a bit worried.

"Uh…" Gwyn didn't want to admit the truth. "…Well, of course I do. You take out weeds from the other…plants…right?"

Sam nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced. "…Yes. And this is a vegetable garden. The tall stalk you almost pulled is an _onion_."

"Oh." Gwyn nodded quickly. _Oops._

"Yes. So pull out the weeds." Sam smiled encouragingly and bent down over some plants which looked like poison ivy, but they clearly were vegetables, since Sam handed them easily.

After ten minutes, Gwyn felt like she was handling weeding well…except Sam constantly had to inform her gently to leave the peppers, tomatoes, and potatoes alone. She grabbed a tall, thick stalk with tiny prickles and yanked it out.

"No, no, no!" Sam hollered. "That's a PUMPKIN!"

Oops.

Gwyn immediately let go of the pumpkin plant, but it was already dislodged from the deep soil.

Sam sighed sadly. "This was my first year planting pumpkins."

Gwyn's face grew hot. How could she be so stupid? She should've gone right out and admitted that she knew _nothing_ about gardening.

"Miss Gwyn, it's really all ri—"

Gwyn ignored Sam's temperate voice as she rushed to the gateway but jumped right over it.

"Miss Gwyn, wait!" Sam cried out.

"I have to go!" Gwyn called over her shoulder and broke into a run, fighting back tears.

She ran all the way down the road, and then turned onto a road on the right, forgetting about Merry's hobbit-hole. The road eventually led to the busy part of Hobbiton. Gwyn immediately stopped before the crossroad. In the middle of the cobblestone square was a tall wooden sign that read: WELCOME TO HOBBITON.

Gwyn turned away, not wanting anyone to notice her. Then a shout brought her back to attention. She saw Pippin Took almost wobbling towards her, holding a yoke with two buckets of water.

"Ho, there, Gwyn! What brings you here?" Pippin asked cheerfully, seemingly ignoring how heavy those buckets must be.

"I…" Gwyn didn't know what to say.

Pippin seemed not to take notice of her quietness and stepped closer to her. "Would you mind terribly helping me with the buckets?"

Gwyn nodded. "I'll help you."

"Thank you!" Pippin flashed her a charming grin and leaned sideways, allowing Gwyn to remove one bucket from the yoke. Then Pippin removed the other one and hoisted the yoke under his arm, and his other hand handled the bucket.

After a few silent moments of walking down the sandy road, which was surrounded by vast plains of wheat, Pippin started talking. "Isn't it a nice day?"

"Yes." Gwyn answered.

"What's your favorite season?"

"Winter."

"Why?"

"Because I like to take out my toboggan that Papa made me and I can sled down the big hill beyond my village." Gwyn hoped that was the last long answer she'd tell.

"I love spring, because the flowers are in bloom and I go fishing with Merry more often then."

Gwyn nodded, indicating that she was listening. _Oh, I wish I wasn't so socially awkward!_

"What's your favorite color?"

"Red."

"Why?"

"I don't know…you?"

"I don't have a favorite color."

"Ah."

"Do you have a beau back in Newbury?"

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "No. I was never interested in any hobbit lad."

"But were there?"

"A few, yes."

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

Oh, fiddlesticks. He was even worse than Merry. "I told you, I have one brother."

"No, you didn't tell me." Pippin shook his head, staring at her curiously. Gwyn's mean side wished he'd accidentally steer off the road and tumble into the ditch.

After other five minutes, Gwyn began to relax. Pippin finally was quiet for once.

"Gwyn?"

"Yes?" Gwyn replied, inwardly begging him not to ask her other nosy question.

"Why are you living with Merry?"

That question sounded horribly inappropriate and wrong in the first second that Gwyn didn't even wait to think about what Pippin could've really meant. She gasped and swung the bucket over Pippin's head.

Unfortunately, Pippin was agile, and he ducked. The sopping bucket hit other target…a hobbit lass that they didn't notice walking across the road. The lass screamed and fell onto the dusty road, the bucket enveloping her head.

Oops.

Gwyn rushed off the road and crashed into the forest as quickly as she could. Behind her, she heard the lass scream at Pippin for being the cruelest fool she'd ever seen. Gwyn felt sorry for Pippin, but she certainly wasn't going to risk having a bad name on her once again.

Fifteen minutes later, somehow, either by pure luck or Illuvatar might have led her; Gwyn found a familiar raspberry bush near the opening of the forests. She remembered that as the place where she first met Merry. Smiling, Gwyn pushed aside shrubs and branches and made her way out of the woods. Surprisingly, she even remembered where Merry first came from—walking from the right side of the road.

Making sure she paid attention this time, Gwyn easily found Merry's house some five minutes later. She saw Merry sitting on his front step, and he was staring down at the ground.

"Merry?" Gwyn called out and waved. Merry's head shot up, and his worried expression turned relieved. "Gwyn!" He quickly went down the steps and met her at his gate.

"Where have you been?" Merry demanded. Gwyn was taken aback by his slightly scolding tone.

"I—I was walking…I'm sorry, did I worry you?" Gwyn inquired warily.

Merry blinked and stepped back. He seemed to be unwilling to answer her question, and he brushed it aside. "It's all right. Come on, it's time for elevenses. Pip isn't here yet...you seen him around?"

"Um," Gwyn almost said _no_, but decided against it. She didn't want a repeat of the weeding incident. "Yes, I have."

"Really? Where?" Merry peered down at her.

"Near downtown Hobbiton." Gwyn mumbled.

"Is there something wrong?" Merry cocked his head.

Gwyn didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to get into trouble. "I…uh…tossed a water bucket at Pippin…but he ducked, and the water splashed a girl behind him…then…um…I ran away…and…the girl thinks…Pippin did it." Gwyn admitted slowly, keeping her gaze down at her feet.

When she heard nothing from Merry, she peeked up. And Merry's expression was amused, His blue eyes twinkled and he wore his cocky, dimpled smile that Gwyn hated.

But this time, Gwyn didn't even feel like huffing indignantly and stalking off. Sighing, she flailed her hands slightly. "You'd better not be laughing at me, Meriadoc Brandybuck."

Ironically, Merry snickered, dismissing her indignation and motioned her to follow him back to the house. "Come on. Let's go eat."

"Impossible hobbit," Gwyn spat under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

About half an hour later, Merry was helping Melonna put away the apples, grapes, and jars of cool water. Gwyn sat on the tall stool before the counter in the kitchen.

The front door opened suddenly, and a weary-looking Pippin came trudging into the kitchen. Gwyn cringed.

"Pippin? Is there something the matter?" Melonna asked, her jaw dropping in shock.

Pippin sighed heavily. "Well, I now know what it's like being falsely accused. And being shoved into a ditch over the road."

Merry clearly was trying to be sympathetic, but he couldn't stop smiling. "Let me guess. Gwyn tried to throw water at you, but accidentally hit a stranger girl with it, and then she ran away, and this girl thought it was you?"

"Yes." Pippin scowled and turned to Gwyn. "Why would you let that happen?" He objected.

Gwyn shrugged. "I am very sorry. I did not want a bad impression on myself."

Pippin shook his head. "Well, as long as I never see her again, I should be fine. Hopefully she doesn't complain to anyone about this."

"Hey, Gwyn, did you hear anything the girl said to Pippin after you ran away?" Melonna asked, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

Gwyn opened her mouth, but Pippin shot her a begging gaze. She relented. "Um, I can't say."

"All right. Keep your secrets." Merry grinned. "Ready to go, Pip?"

"Yes." Pippin nodded. "Let's go to my house to get the fishing poles. Do you have your own yet?"

"Yes, I do."

While Merry retreated to his bedroom to retrieve his fishing pole, Melonna turned to Gwyn and asked, "What would you like to do while the lads are gone?"

Gwyn shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I can teach you how to cook."

"I'd like that!" Melonna beamed. Pippin peered upon Gwyn curiously. "You can cook?"

"Yes."

Pippin's brown eyes lit up. "What kind of food?"

Melonna rolled her eyes. "Of course, if Pippin starts coming back here to eat, you'll have to cook twice as much."

"You exaggerate!" Pippin accused.

"I don't think so." Melonna crossed her arms and her lips curved smugly.

Merry walked into the room, lugging his long wooden fishing pole. "All right. Come on, Pippin!"

Pippin nodded and waved at Gwyn and Melonna. "Good day!"

A moment later, Merry popped back into the wide doorway. "Oh! Gwyn, would you mind cooking vegetable soup for dinner? We'll have a fresh ham for supper." He raised his eyebrows, awaiting her response.

"Of course." Gwyn nodded, remembering to smile back even if it was not her nature to do so.

For the rest of the morning, the lasses prepared some leftover chicken Rosie Cotton had given Melonna earlier for lunch. Then after lunch, Gwyn took a nap and Melonna sorted through the clothes Frodo had given for Gwyn.

Melonna's fingers bumped something hard and cold buried deep in the pile. She pulled the unknown object out, and saw a large gold round locket, about the size of her hand. She opened it, and inside it were two sketches of hobbits—one was of Drogo Baggins, Frodo's late father. The other was of Frodo himself, younger-looking, and a heart-melting smile on his face.

"What happened to you, Frodo?" Melonna muttered as she shut the locket and dropped it in her apron pocket. "You're so sad and plain secretive. Why can't you trust anyone?"

Brushing thoughts of Frodo aside, Melonna went on folding the twelve pieces of clothes—five church dresses, eight everyday skirts, eleven blouses, two aprons, and three fancy gowns for special occasions. Frodo's parents apparently were rich. She then put them in organized stacks and put them in Gwyn's room as quietly as she could.

She paused in the doorway to look upon Gwyn again. She was sleeping peacefully. The dark circles under her eyes would fade in time once she got accustomed to the normal hours of adult hobbit sleep. Melonna drew in a short breath and tiptoed over to Gwyn. Leaning down slightly, she touched Gwyn's black curls and nudged them away from her face.

"Soon, Gwyn," Melonna whispered, "You'll have to tell Merry. You can't hide your past. I know your past, but I will not tell Merry. It's up to you. Tell him soon…or let him find out for himself. One thing I will assure you, of course…Merry will understand, as long as you explain everything."

Gwyn exhaled deeply, giving no response. She was deep in sleep. Melonna straightened and backed away. It was all right; she didn't want Gwyn to hear her, anyway. Gwyn would only get defensive and refuse.

Later, Gwyn woke up for afternoon tea, which was her favorite time of the day. Gwyn just loved tea. And then the girls went outside and took a short walk, and Melonna helped her see how to determine the distance from certain places to Merry's house. And then they came back to the hobbit-hole, and Gwyn taught Melonna how to make vegetable soup. The results weren't as bad as expected, but next time, Melonna would have to put in less peppers and try not to forget the carrots. After all, who likes hard carrots that were thrown in at the last minute?

Dinner was good, and supper was even better, because Gwyn warmed the chicken up nicely and made thick gravy for it. Pippin complimented Gwyn's cooking, and asked if he could come back next time.

Merry and Gwyn went to bed early, since they both were tired. But Melonna stayed up two hours later and mended a pink flower-patterned yellow jumper dress for Gwyn. And then once finished, she retired to bed.

Drifting off to sleep, Melonna curled up in a corner under her sheets. Then a rustle outside her window startled her. Her eyes opened sleepily, and her head wobbled up, tilting to look out the window behind her at the left. But there was nothing. Sighing, Melonna let her head flop back into her pillow.

But the rustle happened again. Melonna's eyes opened again, and this time she was quite alert. She leaned up on her elbow and stared out again.

But there was still nothing.

Hesitating, Melonna slowly settled back…and then the rustle brought her up again. Almost frightened, she swept her feet out of bed and stood before her window and opened the square panes.

"Hello?" She called out. And there was no answer.

"Hello?" She tried again, her eyes wide and her ears listening closely. But her voice only seemed to echo hollowly across the lawn. The darkness out there was so silent, so still, and not even a breeze or a cricket was heard.

Befuddled, Melonna returned to bed. She was sure there was something…or someone…outside her window. And her mind refused to acknowledge the possible answer her heart was whispering.

_It can't be him. Not him._

Soon, she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

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_**A/N: YAY! Finished! :) Please do not hesitate to comment, criticize, or advise on anything. :) I accept criticism as well as I accept compliments!**_

_**Oh, and here are news that should excite you…in Chapter Nine, a question—or two—will be answered! Yay! :D I'm going to be merciful for once and let you off the hook. But only on some questions…muahahaha! ;)**_

_**Have a nice day! :)**_

_**-Willow**_


	9. A Mystery Revealed and More Questions

_**Chapter Nine: A Mystery Revealed and More Questions**_

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_**A/N: Hola, y'all! :) And, no, I'm not from the south. ;) But, really, I wish I lived in the south. :) Florida…Texas…Kentucky, maybe. :) Oh, anyway, let's go on to the story, shall we? :)**_

_**Oh, wait…shout-outs and disclaimers first. :)**_

_**LadyDorothy, Pippin is the funniest of the four hobbits, methinks. XD I just LOVE writing him! And thanks for your input and feedback…we'll see Gwyn relaxing more soon, yes. :) She's had a hard past three years, so it's going to take her a while. :P And I adore Sam, too! He's not my favorite hobbit to write, but he deserves a good role in the story. :D As for Melonna…she says she's glad that she's not being unnoticed. XD LOL.**_

_**DancingRaindrops, seriously, you didn't have to review, but I am glad you did, since you know I'm such a review hog. XD And I'll start telling you when I update, even though I keep assuming you won't read it anyway. LOL! Kidding. ;) And THIS chapter should move the chapter along…and make you start asking more questions! Muahahaha! XD**_

_**Karm Starkiller, you should be grateful I put Pippin in this chapter! Haha, I know you are. ;) I couldn't leave him out of the story any longer! :P And from your review…I can tell why Pippin's so scared of you in your own fanfics. :P Haha! ;) And as for Diamond…BINGO! You get points for guessing correctly, while no one else bothered to. *Glares at other reviewers.* (I'm kidding. ;)**_

_**Christina Conlon, AKA my superfan ;), thank you for your support! You reviews always make me smile and I feel like I'm a celebrity. XD Here's an update! ;)**_

_**Jen Lewis, here you go; you got a shout-out. Thank you for reviewing; I hope you'll do it again! It wasn't so hard, was it? :) Thanks once again!**_

_**Merlin's Ward, YAY! New reviewer! :) Thank you so much, and I hope this chapter will satisfy you! :)**_

_**estie793, I'm so glad you took up the time to review; I know how hard it is for you since you're so busy. :) Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Finally, here is a chapter that won't make you sit at the edge of your seat in suspense! I…think. ;)**_

**_THANK YOU to mecherry for being my beta reader! :)_**

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema. For the tenth time. :P**_

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Cecilius Whitfoot wasn't the kind of hobbit who would easily step in, take charge, and enjoy having others look up to him as a magnanimous leader. He didn't have a quick temper, and neither did he have an obsessive tendency to control things.

He didn't even want to be a healer. That was his father's job, not his. But since Father was sick, the oldest son had to take over the family clinic.

Cec was the peacekeeper of the family. While Gwyn just wanted to stay out of problems, Cec would try his best to settle down things…without looking too much of a leader. Peace. All he wanted was peace and quiet, but unlike his timorous sister Gwyn, Cec was more levelheaded and was willing to step into disputes and try to end them.

But as levelheaded Cec was, his desk was the opposite. Sighing, the broad-shouldered hobbit swept his hands across the papers, sprawled all over his heavy oak desk. He sorted out all the papers, by the patients' last names.

All of them were patient diagnosis forms: blank sheets of paper requesting only the name, date of birth, location, height, weight, and symptoms of ailments of each hobbit. Then after each appointment, Cec would study the problems, put them all together, research and match the clues to the nearest malady, and then the patient was diagnosed. Cec would take his feather pen and scribble down the problem on the bottom of the page, and then he would tell the patient what to do.

Cec wondered how Swanahilda Banks, his secretary, possibly could handle writing every form by hand, one after another with exactly the same things needed on them.

A knock sounded at the door, startling Cec. "C-come in," he called out.

The door peeked open, and Swan's white-blond head popped in uncertainly. "Hello!" She chirped timidly. Cec smiled warmly, trying to put her at ease. Ever since Gwyn's departure, Swan had taken it really hard and loathed herself for gossiping about such a private matter. She even cried out piteously that she wanted to quit her job, for she felt undeserving and foolish. But, of course, Cec had taken pity on her and insisted her small mistake wasn't exactly harmful, since Gwyn was able to disappear without public scrutiny hitting her first.

"Something up, Swan?" He asked suddenly, realizing Swan was probably tired of standing there, squished between the door and its frame.

"Oh, yes," the young secretary stepped in, her hands fiddling with each other. "Your lady friend came to see you. Are you busy?"

"Mira?" Cec asked, a bit too hopefully.

"Y-yes," Swan nodded, her dark green eyes glowing. "Sh-she seems worried."

"Send her right in," Cec smiled, trying to contain his enthusiasm and sudden concern.

Swan nodded hastily and rushed out of his office. Moments later, redheaded Donnamira Jumpswell sauntered in, her curls piled upon her head in an elegant fashion. "Cec!" She grinned cheerfully. "How are you?" In a nervous gesture, her hands brushed against her bright yellow skirt.

"I'm doing well," Cec nodded, pulling a chair from the wall to the front of his desk. "Please, sit down. How are you? Swan said you seemed worried."

Mira's lovely grin vanished as she took her seat. "I came up to your place this morning, hoping to have Gwyn take me berry-picking. But your mother was…er, less polite than usual, and told me to ask someone else. Then she, ah, slammed the door in my face."

Cec's eyebrows rose, acknowledging his mother's manner towards Mira. Not that Mother disliked Mira, but she did dislike Mira's father, who had shunned the Whitfoots from the community three years ago. Mother held a grudge against him.

"Mira, I'm sorry my mother was rude to you. Um, you don't know this, but Gwyn left Newbury nearly a week ago." Technically, it'd been only two days, but Cec had to conceal the fact Gwyn had been here very recently. Still, he hated lying to Mira.

But Gwyn saw right through him. Glaring, she leaned forward in her seat. "Oh, really? You seem to think otherwise."

Sighing, Cec folded his hand over each other, resting them on his desk. "Honestly, she was here…only briefly, two mornings' past."

"Well…briefly?" Mira questioned. "And why? And where did she go this time?"

"Why do you want to know?" Feeling antsy, Cec wished this discussion would change.

"Because she's my friend." Mira said simply.

Cec glanced at her, his elbow on his armrest, and his finger on his cheek.

Mira stared at him silently for a minute, and then started, "I have to say this. I know you hate hearing her name, but I've longed to say her name for so long. Cec, it is not Gwyn's fault Ada and Ilberic died. I know the whole town thinks so. I know your mother has mixed opinions about it. But you have to stop letting Gwyn run away from what she needs to face and stand up for it."

Cec leaned back in his chair, struck by the simple truth.

Mira gazed at him with sorrowful eyes. "I loved Ilberic, you know. He was my only brother. And he loved Ada, and was willing to die for her."

"But they _both_ did, anyway!" Cec burst out, both hating and loving the sound of Ada's name.

Mira shook her head. "I know Gwyn would not like being confronted. I know she would just leave. But—you, Cec, would not. You'll listen, would you? That's what Ada would do."

"Adaldrida," Cec murmured the name—for the first time in three years.

Mira nodded slightly. "Your sister. Would she want Gwyn to keep running and hiding?"

"No." Cec rubbed a hand across his eyes. "But how would Ada stand up for herself, if the village won't listen?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Mira responded emphatically. "I doubt the villagers of Newbury actually despise your family, Cec. They fear mostly Gwyn only, because of what she did."

Cec slammed his fist on the desk, making Mira jump. "What Gwyn _did_ was an _accident_. At least she isn't _as _cowardly as her brother."

"Odd," Mira snipped, "I'd assume Griffin would have the upper hand in defending his innocence; not Gwyn."

Taken aback by her cool retaliation, Cec leaned back into his chair, regarding her with wary eyes.

Mira bit her lip, fidgeted awkwardly, and then she stood to her feet. "Well, I'm sorry this hasn't ended up well, Cec. I only came to see if Gwyn was safe." With that, she flounced for the door.

Cec sighed loudly. "Wait!" He called out.

Mira stopped, with her back to him. Cec heard the doorknob creak; Mira's long fingers were resting on it.

"Gwyn _is_ safe," Cec told her in a soft tone.

Mira turned around, her face half hidden by her long curls. "Truly? How do you know?" She answered seriously.

Cec realized how much Mira actually cared for Gwyn. _I was right. Mira's been the only true friend to Gwyn since Ada and Ilberic died._

"I shouldn't tell you where she is now, but the place she is at should be a safe haven for her. All you need to do is to pray for her, Mira."

Mira nodded. "All right. I will. Thank you." She smiled slightly and left the room.

Cec rubbed his forehead. He loved Mira and wanted to trust her with Gwyn's secret location…but how could he trust the daughter of the hobbit who hated the Whitfoots the most?

* * *

Frodo penned down the ending of his latest chapter. He just completed one of the worst parts—being stabbed at Weathertop. The process had been almost agonizing, because he had to go through his painful memories to write it. But he reminded himself that he was doing this for his beloved uncle Bilbo. And he planned to hand down this book to his dear friend Sam…that is, if there was any room left.

Sam would be heartbroken if he ever found out Frodo's plans for next year in September…he was leaving the Shire…_Middle-earth_…forever. His uncle Bilbo would come from Rivendell to Bag End to live here for one more year; in this following September, and then he and Frodo would make plans to leave.

Did Frodo want to leave? Yes…and no. He knew he'd lived his life here…but to leave who and what he loved here? Sam, most of all. Merry. Pippin. Even Rosie and Melonna. Bag End. The Shire. His friends from the Fellowship.

Sighing, he decided to move out of his depressing thoughts. Shutting the brown leather book, he rose from his chair and left the study, heading for the kitchen for some tea. Then he heard a knock at the door. It probably was Pippin for some food or Merry asking for help again. He just hoped it wasn't Melonna. He still was upset with her for her nosiness and temper from the other night.

But when he opened the door, he was surprised to see Rose Cotton smiling up at him, holding a small basket with a jar of honey in it.

"Hello, Miss Cotton," he bowed politely. "What brings you here? Is it Sam?"

"Call me Rosie, please," she replied. "And Sam is terribly worried about you. But you know how he is—shy. So he begged me to come up here and check on you. Are you doing all right?"

_My dear Sam._ Frodo smiled. "Yes. Sam needn't have worried. I'm perfectly all right."

"That's good!" Rosie seemed relieved. "We brought you some honey." She held out the basket to him.

"Thank you," Frodo took it and admired the lovely amber color of the honey. It would be delicious with biscuits, for sure.

"Frodo?" Rosie inquired, her expression slightly unsure.

"What is it?" Frodo replied. When the lass hesitated, Frodo prodded her on gently, "It's all right. You can tell me."

"Well…Sam and I…we think—that is—we think you need to…try socializing more." Rosie mumbled uncharacteristically.

"Socialize more?" Frodo repeated mildly, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes." Rosie nodded. "I am not trying to be rude, but I think when you seclude yourself from your friends and just the general public, other hobbits are going to start to think you are very strange, or…at the very least…stuck-up."

Strange? Stuck-up? Frodo didn't know what to say. Clearly, Rosie didn't understand. Frodo sighed sadly. "Rosie…I…"

"What?" Her brown eyes darkened with concern.

"You don't understand…but Sam probably could." Frodo sighed deeply and held up his bad hand to let Rosie see. Her eyes widened.

"My hand…also my chest…I'm wounded outside and inside. For now…I just need time. Trust me, I do wish I could be more sociable…but not now. Will you please try to understand?"

Rosie nodded, clearly concerned but understanding. "Of course. I'll pray for you, Frodo."

Frodo nodded in thanks. He was about to close the door as she walked down the steps, but then she suddenly turned around. "Oh…Frodo. I forgot one more thing…" she smiled. "Sam wants you to be his best man."

Frodo smiled back. "Tell him I'd be honored." With a final inclination of his head, he closed the door.

Sighing, he retreated into the kitchen to make some tea. As he lit the fireplace (he had four in his home), his thoughts wandered over to that dark-haired girl who was living in Merry's house.

Gwynra Whitfoot. Who was she? Frodo just had a sneaking suspicion that there was something…not quite right about her. Something about that girl just rubbed him wrong. She acted so secretive; she seemed to want to avoid everyone. After all, normal hobbits didn't jump bump into people and then take off running in the opposite direction!

She was hiding something. Her dark eyes clearly said so.

Of course, Frodo wasn't going to act like the nosy, pompous Sackville-Bagginses and stick his nose into her business. He would reserve his judgment for now.

A sudden thought popped into his head. What if Merry was to fall in love with…_Gwyn_?

He smiled slightly. _And, sadly, I do not trust her enough to try to set her up with lonely Merry._

Pippin could do it. Frodo only hoped that Gwynra wasn't a threat to Merry or to anyone in Hobbiton.

_What dark secret is she hiding, anyway?_

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_**A/N: Here you go! :) I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Still, please review. :) **_


	10. A Mysterious Acquaintance

_**Chapter Ten: A Mysterious Acquaintance**_

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_**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! :P**_

_**Just to let you all know: the chapter title really doesn't have much to do with this chapter…except for the ending. :) Uh…yeah…it should make you ask a lot more questions…I think. :P *Coughs.* Anyway…**_

_**WARNING! Be prepared to be hit with a LOT of new mysteries and encounters! :P**_

_**Shout-outs. :)**_

_**DancingRaindrops. DANCI! I LOVE your LOUD and EXCITED reviews! :D They make me so happy! :) I'm also glad you're warming up to Gwyn's mom. I used to hate her, but then I realized she could be an important facet in the story, and I decided not to make her the bad guy. XD Lol. But I do like your seriousness in your reviews, along with your enthusiasm. XD And of course my shout-outs are very sweet. ;) As for Frodo—other reviewer also asked that question. XD I told her what I'm telling you…you'll SEE. Muahahahaha. XD Actually…I'm not sure if I want to send him off to Valinor (aka the ending of the movie when they sail away in case you didn't know :P ;) or to make him stay. And I totally plan to make Pippin matchmake Gwyn and Merry…I can't wait, haha. XD Goodness, this shout-out is getting quite long, lol. :D It's because you give LONG reviews, which I love. XD And—I LOVE YOU, TOO, DEAR DANCI! XD *Hugs.***_

_**Jen Lewis. Thank you for your review; it meant a lot to me, and thank you also for informing me on how the story's going! :D Happy reviewing. :)**_

_**LadyDoroAnne. Ah! My favorite writer that I love to throw my food at. XD And ya don't have to tell me who you are; I recognize you with the first eight letters of your pen name, lol. XD *Hugs.* YAY! I'm glad I made your day! XD By the way, I'm giving you permission to throw food at me if my chapters ever displease you. XD LOL. But I don't seem ever to displease you, so…yay! :P ;) My writing is IMPECCABLE? I've always wanted to be complimented that way! :D Thank you! And please do go on. ;D Lol.**_

_**Karm Starkiller. Thank you very much for your advice on horses! :) I really appreciate it! And, actually, this fanfic is movieverse, not bookverse. XD Doing them bookverse would be difficult for me to do. :P Lol. But I'm very glad my story doesn't bother you in that way! :D And as for Pippin…I think he's afraid of you because of you and your odd sister Turquoise in your own fic. XD Haha, just kidding. ;)**_

_**estie793. Nooo…Gwyn didn't EXACTLY kill someone…you'll see. Sorry, I just have to torture my readers. XD But if you beg again, I'll spoil it for you, I guess. :P ;) And I turned you into a FRODO FAN? :D Well, well, well! :) I am very pleased with myself, haha. XD OH! And thank you very much for reviewing on my other LOTR one-shot, by the way! :) Anyway, I hope you still keep liking Frodo through this story! XD Who COULDN'T? :P ;) And if you ever write a Frodo/OC fic (oh, may heaven permit ;)…let me know. XD**_

_**Christina Conlon. Where have you been? I miss your looooong PMs. :D Thank you! And I'm so glad I put you in so much suspense, lol. ;D Hope this chapter satisfies you very much! :)**_

_**As for you others who read but don't review…PLEASE do review. When you don't, I wonder if you don't read my story either. :/ If you're simply too busy to review, then just tell me. I will understand. :) Thank you!**_

_**I pronounce this chapter unbeta'd. :P But thanks to mecherry and DancingRaindrops for their utmost efforts anyway. XD**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema. (Wait, does New Line Cinema really own LOTR? :P)**_

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Merry awoke to find his room dimly lit. Gray clouds swirled outside his window. Suddenly shivering, he snuggled back under his covers. Today was one of those summer days when the warm weather mysteriously dropped and wouldn't return to normal heat for a few days. Merry hated these days. Why couldn't the weather make up its mind during the seasons?

Not ten minutes later, the aroma of sausage and eggs wafted into his room. Merry smiled. "Mmm." He murmured as he stretched his arms out of his sheets. _That food couldn't possibly be cooked by Melonna. It has to be…Gwyn!_

"_Mey-reeeeeeeee!_"

Merry sighed. Melonna was calling him. It must be later than usual, or she wouldn't usually call him out of bed. Grumbling to himself, he lumbered out of his bed and donned on his fleecy warm cape. At least he had a hot breakfast to look forward to.

Shivering, he walked out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen. He saw Melonna sitting at the counter. Her legs swung over the floor in rhythmic movements. Gwyn stood over the fireplace and was mixing the cut sausage into the scrambled eggs. On the table were milk, fruit, and tea.

"Everything smells good," Merry complimented. Startled, Gwyn rose up but banged her head under the mantle place.

"OW!" She rubbed her head, sending Merry an annoyed glance.

"Sorry," he gave her a contrite look.

Melonna giggled.

Gwyn sniffed and shook the long spoon at her. "It's not funny. I could've burned myself."

"I take that you're not a morning person," Merry commented dryly, shoving his hands into his pajama pockets.

"She's not even a day person," Melonna muttered under her breath. Gwyn obviously heard since she rolled her eyes at that.

"I'm not a morning person, no." Gwyn admitted defensively and turned back to the eggs, taking the thick cloth to carry the hot pan over to the counter. She set it on a wooden block meant for supporting hot dishes.

"You still make everything look good," Merry attempted to appease to her mood once again. Gwyn nodded and sent him a brief smile before hurrying with the dishes.

"She's not much into compliments, is she?" Merry whispered to Melonna, standing next to her.

Melonna shook her head. "No. She's always been suspicious of the honesty of people."

"Issues?" Merry twisted his lips wryly.

Melonna nodded ruefully. "For many years."

"Why?" Merry was increasingly becoming more curious about Gwyn each day.

"None of your beeswax, Meriadoc." Melonna never called her cousin by his full name unless she seriously meant something.

"What are we whispering about?" Gwyn spoke up, mysteriously appearing directly in front of them. The cousins jumped slightly.

"'Scuse me," Gwyn reached for the pan of eggs and sausage between Merry and Melonna. Suddenly, Merry caught the faint scent of cherry blossoms floating from her hair as she left the counter. He smiled slightly, entranced and bewildered by the barely flickering feelings stirring within him.

"…Merry?" Melonna stared at him with a quizzical expression. Snapping out of his reverie, Merry shook his head slightly. "Oh—uh…sorry, Melonna. I was…thinking."

"That's all right," Melonna replied only after a second's hesitation.

They turned to face Gwyn, who was standing at the far end of the table, waiting expectantly. She tucked an errant curl back into her loosely bound hair and glanced at the cousins, albeit impatiently.

"…May we please eat now? I'd very much like to drink my tea." Gwyn folded her hands and even smiled. Merry smiled back.

"Of course we may. Let's sit down."

Melonna bowed her head to give a quick blessing over the food, and Merry bowed his head as well to respect Melonna's more orthodox faith. But Gwyn sat straight up in her chair and waited. She did not seem like she wanted to pray at all.

"…Amen." Melonna raised her head and began helping food onto her plate. Just then, the door opened, and Pippin came into view of the dining room. Merry grinned. He'd completely expected Pippin to come along for breakfast.

"Good morning!" Pippin smiled nervously. "I…I brought visitors."

Gwyn looked up from her apple and dropped it. The fruit fell to the floor with a _thunk_. Pippin glanced at her. "Uh…you probably didn't expect it…"

Gwyn blinked and opened and closed her mouth several times. "Uh…uh…oh, no, it's fine….I cooked enough for six people, since Melonna told me you might drop by."

Merry chuckled. "And just who did you bring with you, Pip?"

Pippin stepped back and looked beyond the wall to the front door. "'Allo! You may come in now."

Sam and Rosie came into view—and Frodo was just behind them. Merry heard Melonna's sharp intake of breath.

Gwyn's eyes narrowed slightly. But then Rosie saw her and smiled brightly. "Miss Gwyn! I didn't think I'd see you again!"

Taken aback by her cheer, Gwyn nodded slightly. Merry carefully observed her. Gwyn definitely had a lot of issues.

"Miss Gwyn, how are you doing now?" Sam smiled at her. Rosie glanced back at her fiancé. "Wait, you already knew she was here?"

"Y-yes," Sam stammered. "I-I thought Gwyn wouldn't want anyone else to know…"

Gwyn rose from her seat slowly. "It's okay, Miss Rosie. Sam did what I'd want him to do. Please don't be upset with him or anything." She smiled at Sam. "Thank you, by the way. And, Rosie…" she sent the curly-haired lass an apologetic gaze. "I, uh, I hope you understand."

Rosie clearly was unaffected by Sam's secret knowledge of Gwyn's arrival. "Oh, that's just fine." She smiled at Sam, and then to Gwyn. "At least I got to see you again!"

Gwyn nodded shyly and sat back down. Merry observed her slightly flushed face.

"Come on, let's sit down," Pippin called out cheerfully, nudging Sam, Rosie, and Frodo toward the table. Sam and Rosie sat between Merry and Gwyn. Pippin sat between Melonna and Merry, leaving Frodo to walk partially counterclockwise around the table—to sit next to Melonna, much to her dismay. The two refused to glance at each other. Merry wanted to clock their heads together for being so bullheaded.

"You missed the blessing, but that's okay," Melonna informed. "Let's just dig in!"

After a few minutes of chattering about the weather and what everyone did yesterday, Rosie turned to Gwyn and asked her, "So, have you been meeting people in Hobbiton?"

To that, Gwyn shook her head, "Uh, no…and I don't plan to."

"Oh," Rosie nodded, her eyes shining with only mere curiosity, "And may I ask what you're doing all the way from Newbury?"

"Uh…" Gwyn's dark eyes flickered momentarily. "…I'm visiting Melonna. She was my childhood friend."

Merry felt his eyebrows shoot up at that lie. Why didn't Gwyn tell the truth? Never mind that _Merry_ didn't know either, but he did recall that she never said she came to Hobbiton just to visit Melonna. Melonna also appeared slightly confused, but she nodded. "Um…yes. She's visiting me." She sent a convincing smile at the others.

"What is Newbury like?" Pippin asked, his eyes peering upon Gwyn, probing her. She seemed a bit uncomfortable now.

"…Lots of people…" Gwyn tried, "…Uh, there's Mayor Jumpswell…I'm friends with his daughter Mira. There's the stable-master and his son. My brother is a physician."

"Doesn't Newbury reside right next to the Brandywine?" Melonna asked.

"Oh, no," Gwyn shook her head. "It's about 45 minutes north and east."

Merry nearly choked with laughter over his milk. "Erm, you mean _west_, Gwyn."

Gwyn's eyes widened and she blushed. Nevertheless, she tried to maintain her dignity by straightening up in her seat and she swept her thick curls away from her face. Merry decided to push her buttons even more. "Why, Gwyn, trying to look like a matronly hobbit teacher won't do you any good; you're much too lovely and young." He smirked with twinkling eyes. Everyone—even Frodo but not Gwyn—chuckled lowly. Poor Gwyn's face was a bright pink, which Merry had to admit was quite appealing on her.

But instead of coldly ignoring him or leaving the table in a huff, Gwyn's eyes took on a sly sparkle. "Why, Master Brandybuck, you'd better not jest ever more, or I just might toss my water at you." She raised her cup to him, smiling coyly. "You wouldn't want to end up like poor Peregrin here like from two days ago, would you? Oh, my, Melonna has told me about your childhood aversion towards…taking baths. They still exist even now, don't they?"

Merry had been beaten. Everyone now—even Frodo—snickered at the revelation of Merry's embarrassing little secret. He'd always hated baths, even now. As a child, he'd think up wild plots to get away from taking baths. Merry shot a glare at his cousin, who was grinning at him sheepishly. "_Oops!_" She giggled.

Shaking his head, he raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who was also suppressing a laugh. She caught his amused gaze, and her smile faded. She looked down quickly to focus on her food. The laughter died down into an awkward silence. Merry rolled his eyes, inwardly thanking Gwyn (sarcastically) for ruining the merry mood with her shyness and mysteriousness.

Finally, Frodo broke the silence. "Merry, the reason I came was mostly because you have a letter, but it was sent mistakenly to my address."

"Oh," Merry replied in surprise as he took the letter Frodo had taken from his brown vest pocket, "Thank you." He looked down at the return address. He inwardly groaned. It was from his parents!

"Who's it from?" Melonna leaned sideways to look at the letter. "Oh! A letter from Uncle Saradoc!" She smiled. "Do open it, please, Merry."

Sighing, Merry reluctantly opened the letter. "_'Dear Meriadoc,_'" he started, "_'How have you been doing? You have not written in the past five months. What is wrong with you, boy? Have you no care for your own father and mother?_'"

Melonna giggled. "Oh, Merry."

"I hate writing, all right?" Merry rolled his eyes. "Anyway…_'Meriadoc, this is your mother. I wish you would come back to Bucklebury to visit. We all miss you terribly. Even your cousin Berilac—you know, the portly lad who you claim keeps stealing your chess set—keeps asking after you. He even keeps your chess set in his room. I think the poor dear misses you!_'"

"Please," Melonna snorted. "Berilac has always hated you, has he?"

"Why?" Rosie inquired.

"Jealousy, probably." Merry smiled. "I always was the better-looking, smarter one." He cast a furtive glance at Gwyn, wanting to see her reaction. But she just glanced up at him, clearly interested in that letter.

"Anyway," Merry continued, "_'This is your father again, Meriadoc. I have been wondering of late about my position as the_'…" Merry's voice faltered, as he read the rest of the letter silently. He felt a pit in his stomach clench uncomfortably.

"…What is it, Merry?" Pippin asked concernedly.

Exhaling, Merry shook his head and stuffed the letter back into the envelope. "It's nothing." He smiled at his friends. "Just personal stuff. Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course," Sam nodded. "Um…I was wondering if Miss Gwyn here would like me to teach her how to garden…" he cast Gwyn a nervous glance.

Gwyn bit her lip for a second, and then nodded. "Um…yes, I'd…appreciate that."

"By the way," Rosie started, "Did you know Pippin's brother-in-law Adalgrim brought a new family from Long Cleeve?"

"_Long Cleeve?_" Melonna leaned forward, shocked. "That's a long way from here…" she cast a teasing glance at Gwyn. "Do _you_ know where that is?"

Gwyn smirked back in partial annoyance. "Yes. It's north…_east_." She shot Merry a scathing glare. He smiled back charmingly, unaffected by her attitude.

"Anyway…" Rosie smiled in amusement, "The family's last name is actually referred as 'of Long Cleeve'. They have three daughters and seven sons. The youngest is about Melonna's age, and her name is Diamond. I met her yesterday in the marketplace. She's shy and kind, but has quite a feisty side to her."

Melonna nodded in casual interest. "I see. Go on."

"And…" Rosie sent Pippin a gaze. "Apparently, she is the lass who Pippin…I mean _Gwyn_…threw water at the other day."

Merry, Melonna, and Sam all laughed. Gwyn cast an accusatory glare at Pippin. "You _told_ her?"

"Correction," Pippin held up a finger, "I told Frodo, who told Sam, who told _Rosie_." He smiled at Gwyn in self-satisfaction.

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot, _Pip_."

"Don't worry," Rosie's eyes twinkled and she leaned towards Gwyn conspiratorially. "Diamond still thinks it was Pippin, not Gwyn."

Pippin rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot, _Rose_." And everyone laughed.

Frodo spoke up quietly, "Well, I think I'll be going now—"

"But you can't go yet," Pippin protested. "We haven't talked with you in so long. I'm lucky I found you walking up here when I brought Sam and Rosie here."

"Oh, it's okay, Pippin," Melonna smiled sweetly at Frodo. "I'm sure this hobbit likes being a hermit…_crab_."

Merry, Pippin, Sam, Rosie, and Gwyn glanced at Melonna and Frodo in wide-eyed silence. Frodo's cheek jerked; obviously upset by Melonna's insult. "Yes," he spoke back coolly, "I just need to lock away my books so nosy little hobbit lasses don't poke their noses in them."

Melonna slammed her hand on the table. "How dare you call me _nosy_! And I'm not a little lass! I'm grown-up, for goodness sakes!"

Frodo rose up suddenly, pushing his hands against the rim of the table. "Fine! I've had enough of tempestuous hobbits. I'm leaving."

"Good!" Melonna shot back and followed him to the door. "And don't bother asking me to get your coat! I may just rip it up!"

"Fine!" Frodo shot back, and then the door slammed. Everyone jumped.

Melonna walked back into the kitchen slowly. Everyone stared down at their plates in stunned silence.

Merry heard the faint sound of Melonna's foot scuffing the floor. "…Uh…he forgot his coat."

Sam shook his head. "Oh, well, I will gladly bring it to him when I talk to him. Rosie, wouldn't you mind coming along, or would you rather have Pippin take you home?"

Rosie laid a hand on her fiancé's arm. "I'll go home. Frodo might feel more open to discussing this with you alone."

"All right." Sam nodded and rose from his chair. "I'll be going to see Mr. Frodo now. Thank you for the breakfast, Merry."

Merry grinned at his stout friend. "I didn't make it, mate. Gwyn did."

"Oh," Sam nodded and turned to Gwyn. "Thank _you_, then. It was very delicious."

"You're…you're welcome." Gwyn attempted a friendly smile.

Sam nodded, gave Rosie a shy, chaste kiss on the cheek, and waved at Pippin, Sam, and Melonna good-bye. Pippin and Rosie stayed for fifteen more minutes, and Gwyn got to know Rosie more while washing dishes with her and Melonna. While chatting with Pippin, Merry noticed that Gwyn still gave very little details of her life, and Melonna apparently said nothing either, presumably to respect Gwyn's wishes.

After Pippin and Rosie left, Melonna retired to her room. Merry found her reading, which was a surprise. While Merry hated writing, Melonna hated reading. Nevertheless, he decided to leave her alone and went to speak with Gwyn in her room. He found her staring at the window from her bed, sitting cross-legged.

He walked to the other side of the bed and opened the cabinet under the lamp stand. He pulled out the sinopia red cloak Gwyn had left here almost a month ago.

"Here," Merry went over to her side, handing over the cloak. Gwyn's eyes brightened. "Oh, thank you. I didn't know where you'd put it."

Merry smiled slightly at her. "You're welcome. Listen…would you do me a favor? A…really big one, perhaps, in your point of view."

"What is it?" Gwyn glanced up at him cautiously.

"You know that I took Sage and Posie into town yesterday to have their shoes fixed?"

"Yes."

"Well…I'm not really in the mood for company right now, and neither is Melonna. I know _you_ never are, but—"

"Hey, who said I was _never_ in the mood for company?" Gwyn interrupted, half-defensively and half-amusedly. "And since when does Meriadoc the magnificent want solitude—like the hobbit living up the hill from you?"

Merry laughed, liking how good-humored she was this morning. "His name is Frodo Baggins, first of all. And secondly, I rest my case. Okay, I know you _hardly_ are in the mood for company, but I would appreciate it very much if you went downtown to pick up my ponies."

Still obviously humored, Gwyn feigned mock surprise. "And you trust me, me with my 'horrible navigation skills'?"

Merry crossed his arms, chuckling. "Yes, actually, I do. If you ever get lost, turn back and keep walking until you reach the dead end of Hobbiton's neighborhood road, where Sam lives. He'll take you back here."

"All right," Gwyn's brow furrowed, listening intently.

"Do you know how to ride the wagon?"

"Yes. I don't think I'm as good as you, since I don't do it often, but I can."

"All right! Trust me, you'll be fine." Merry finished. "Wear your cloak. It's chilly."

But when he'd left the room, Gwyn suddenly ran up behind him. "Merry! Wait! There _are_ people, are there?" Her dark eyes were wary.

Merry gazed down at her. "…So? They're a lot friendlier than the Newbury folk, I'd assume."

"That's right," Melonna came up behind Gwyn. "Don't worry about it. All you have to do it steer clear of the Sackville-Bagginses."

Merry nodded with a wrinkled-up nose. "Absolutely. They're very nosy, intrusive, and suspicious."

"The last people you'll want to run into," Melonna stated, "Especially for _you_."

Gwyn nodded, still fearful.

"Here…" Merry ran to his bedroom closet, opened up his cedar chest, and took out a dagger. His breathing stilled. He hadn't touched the knife of Lothlorien in a long time, and it brought many bittersweet memories.

Boromir. Théoden. Éomer. Galadriel. Legolas. Gimli. Elrond. Arwen. Gandalf. Aragorn…

Éowyn.

"…Merry?"

Startled, Merry snapped out of his dark memories. "Oh…Melonna." He rose up and walked out with his cousin, meeting Gwyn in the middle of the hallway. "It might help you feel safer if you carry this." He reluctantly handed over the long, curved knife.

Gwyn's eyebrows rose in shock as she gingerly fingered the shining steel weapon. "…Where did you get this?" She breathed.

"Please don't ask." Merry replied, hating how sad his voice was. He only hoped Gwyn never knew that this dagger had been used many times…in battle. He had no idea of how Gwyn would feel about that.

"Thank you, Merry," Gwyn nodded. "I do feel safer." She pushed the knife gently into its sheath and tied it around her belt, which held up her light red skirt up to her white blouse. She laced her collar around her neck and donned her hood. "Is it raining?"

"Yes, but lightly. You'll be fine…but Frodo says it may rain harder around lunchtime, so hurry back before then."

"Thank you, Merry. Melonna." Gwyn nodded at the two and left the house. The cousins watched her walk nimbly down the steps, her cloak floating up along her back.

"I only hope she doesn't run into him," Melonna murmured.

"Hmm? Who?" Merry glanced at her.

"N-no one." Melonna glanced up at him hastily, apparently wishing she never said anything.

Merry decided not to press her for more this time. He just hoped that whoever "he" was—would be found out soon.

* * *

It was misty by the time Gwyn reached Hobbiton. She adjusted her hood until it hid her face from distanced view; one would have to lean slightly and closer to see her face. Gwyn was happy that she had her cloak back; it kept her so much warmer than her daisy-dotted shawl.

She stopped mid-step in the middle of the cobblestone rectangle street. Merry had forgotten to tell her where the stables were. She chewed her lip nervously, looking to and fro.

"'Allo, miss," a tall, skinny-beyond-normal hobbit peered down at her. His white hair was hidden by a fishing cap. He was old, hunched over with his cane. "Are you lost?"

Nearly trembling, Gwyn nodded. "I—I—kind of. Where are the stables…please?"

The aged hobbit grinned cheerfully at her. "Oh, it can't be far from here, little lass. Just go right down that way. Be sure to perk up your wee nose to smell the hay, and the hay will guide you right to it!"

"Th-thank you, kind sir," Gwyn curtsied and quickly ran down the street. She was surprised and happy that he was friendly and not intruding.

She found the stables; right after her nose caught the scent of the hay. That albeit eccentric but kind hobbit was right. Rushing into the stables, she sighed in relief. _Rain, rain, go away…please!_

"Sage…Posie? Where are you, horsies?" Gwyn called out in a gentle voice. She then heard Sage's whinny. She went up to the stall and smiled up at the copper-colored pony with large almond eyes. "There you are, boy. Remember me?"

Sage backed up nervously. "Oh, you can trust me," Gwyn pleaded. "I helped your master Merry feed and groom you yesterday. Remember? I gave you that yummy carrot?"

Sage stared down at her for a moment, and then hesitantly leaned forward, as if trusting Gwyn to handle him properly. She reached up steadily and patted his neck. "There you go. See? I'm a nice lass."

Posie wasn't as shy as her brother. After just half a minute of familiarizing with Gwyn, she was clearly pleased to have Gwyn take her home.

"There…hmm…" Gwyn muttered to herself. "I certainly don't know how to rig up your wagon. I don't suppose you know who can help me, Sage? Posie?"

"Ah, I can help ya, girl." A shockingly familiar voice rang behind her. Gwyn's stomach dropped and flip-flopped.

"Sigi," she whispered as she turned around to face the handsome, golden-haired hobbit she hadn't seen in two years.

Sigi looked up from adjusting his black cape. He saw Gwyn and suddenly cursed. "…Oh. Gwynra. Right?"

"…Yes," Gwyn retorted, her nerves already going berserk at the sight of Sigi. His dark eyes shone into her very being.

"What're you doing here?" He groaned as he stalked over to Sage's stall.

Gwyn lifted her chin. "I'm here to pick up these ponies."

Sigi glanced at her over his broad shoulder. "Ah." He grinned suggestively. "They're Meriadoc Brandybuck's ponies, aren't they?" He chuckled darkly and unlatched the gate.

"Yes." Gwyn responded stiffly. "So?"

But as expected, Sigi swung the topic to other, as he always had done. "So…how are you doing?"

Gwyn's eyebrows shot up. "You're asking _me_?" She answered dubiously.

"Sure," Sigi nodded once, walking Sage out to the wagon next to the stables. "It'd be polite to ask, y'know?"

Gwyn narrowed her eyes. "As if you consider yourself a gentlehobbit."

"_Hey!_" Sigi turned back to Gwyn with flashing eyes. Sage stiffened, nervous with Sigi's sharp tone. "You don't sass me, you hear? I don't like being treated that way."

Gwyn flinched, but stood her ground. "Fine. I'm doing well. And you?" She kept the contempt out of her tone, but she was sure it still was in her eyes.

Sigi's moods, always as quick as a wild stallion, swung back to his good side. He grinned at Gwyn. "I'm doing just fine, thank you. See?" He finished tying up Sage and glanced down at Gwyn with yet another suggestive expression. "I'm not as bad as I used to be." He reached over for Gwyn's cheek, but she pulled away abruptly.

"How's Swan? Surely she misses you." She asked coolly.

"Ah," Sigi frowned and waved his hand, as if dismissing the very topic. "I broke off our engagement a long time ago. She was way too clingy."

Anger burned inside her. "Really?" She smirked darkly. "Before or after you found yourself other hobbit lass?"

"Hey, don't you go on rubbing the past in my face," Sigi shoved a warning finger at her. "I had to break off things with you because you were too rebellious and stuck-up."

"That is not why we broke up, and you know it, Sigismond Noakes!" Gwyn shot back hotly. "We broke up because of—" she bit her lip, unable to bring it up herself. "—You're too much of a _coward _to say it out loud!"

Sigi threw Posie's harnesses to the ground angrily. Posie seemed fearful, stepping back into the corner of her stall. "Gwynra Whitfoot! I've had enough of your mouth!" Sigi shouted at her, stepping towards her menacingly.

Instinctively, Gwyn whipped out Merry's knife and pointed it at Sigi. Fear flickered in his eyes and he immediately stepped back. "…Where…where did you get that thing?"

Gwyn kept the knife pointed at him warningly. "That is none of your concern. Please…get Posie hitched up, and I'll go. Isn't that what you want, Sigi? For me to go?"

Nodding and glancing at her warily, Sigi silently did what he was told. Hurt simmered within Gwyn. That look he just gave her was just like how everyone looked at her…after that Dark Day. They looked at her as if she was a strange being who didn't belong. After all, who'd ever seen a knife like…_this_? Not even Gwyn. This knife had to belong to either men or elves.

Sigi finally finished with Posie and walked up to Gwyn. She'd put the knife away, and he now smiled at her—as if nothing happened. "Now, you just go home to the little master of Buckland's charming son, and you be sure not to tell him what happened, 'kay?"

"M-master of Buckland?" Gwyn glanced up at him in shock.

"Yeah!" Sigi glanced at her with an expression that indicated that she should've known that. "Everyone knows, Gwynnie. Meriadoc himself's gonna be next in line, being the only son and all." He chuckled lightly. "Say, you'd make the perfect little wife for him. He's just as oddball as you are."

"_What?_" Gwyn repeated incredulously.

"Yeah." Sigi nodded, cupping his hips with his tanned fists. "Young Meriadoc over there disappeared from the Shire a year ago with his cousin Peregrin, and that Gamgee gardener, and cracked ol' Bilbo Baggins' nephew. They didn't return until five months ago. Most shocking appearance in Shire history, I'd say, other than Bilbo's from other time."

"He…_disappeared_?" Gwyn repeated uncertainly.

"Yeah…" Sigi leaned closer. "They say he's even been clear across the land—in _men's_ territories…_elves'_…and _orcs'_."

Gwyn's eyes widened, stunned. "You…you're crazy," she sputtered finally. "No hobbit…_none_…can possibly do that! We'd be dead anywhere beyond Bree!"

Sigi snorted. "Yeah. Probably. But it'd be funny to see his reaction if you ask him that, huh?"

Gwyn said nothing, completely mystified and now very much curious about Meriadoc Brandybuck.

"…Master of Bucklebury, huh?" Gwyn repeated again, to ensure she heard Sigi correctly.

"Correction: _Buckland_," Sigi smirked smugly at her. "You're still quite the little dunce, are you?"

Gwyn ignored his hurtful comment and prodded him on, "All the way from High Hay to Brerdon?"

"Yes! Why is it so hard for you to grasp that fact? Ya still have issues with the politician type of folk, don'cha?"

"Well, I don't know!" Gwyn snapped and stomped over to the wagon.

"Need helping up there?" Sigi asked with an unabashed grin.

"No!"

"Gwyn, wait!" Sigi grabbed her arm when she was seated and about to flap the reins. "…You…"

"What?" She asked tersely.

Sigi seemed confused for a moment. "…What are you doing in Hobbiton, anyway? Your daddy still sick?"

"Yes," Gwyn nodded. "Your beau Swan actually told all the villagers about my secret leavings and comings, and my mother made me leave so the villagers wouldn't confront us about why."

Sigi sighed and shook his head. "They still think you done it on purpose, don' they?"

"Yes," Gwyn nodded slightly, a lump forming in her throat. "Step back, Sigi. I'm going."

Surprisingly, he did what he was told. Gwen flapped the reins, and the copper-colored twins trotted down the road.

She didn't look back.

* * *

Merry was up in his cornfield, checking on all the growing stalks. In a month or two, they'd be twice his height. His crop was plentiful enough for about 1,000 hobbits. He looked up at the gray sky, but it was definitely clearing up, and the breeze wasn't so cold anymore. Frodo must've been wrong about it raining at lunchtime.

He heard the rattle of the wagon, and he turned around to see Gwyn steering Sage and Posie at cantering speed down the road. Something wasn't right here; Gwyn seemed to be in a hurry.

Gwyn abruptly jerked the ponies to a stop before his dirt road to the stable. That sudden halt wasn't going to be enjoyable for his poor ponies. He watched Gwyn carefully maneuver the ponies to the stable. She hopped down the seat and ran at top speed to the house. A few moments later, Melonna got out and headed for the stable, while Gwyn stalked up the hill towards Merry. She seemed highly agitated and stressed.

Merry stuck his hands into his yellow vest pockets, waiting patiently but warily.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck!" Gwyn hollered as she stomped up to him.

"What?" Merry asked uncertainly. "Is there something the matter?"

"_Yes!_ Yes, there is something the matter, Merry!" Gwyn cried. "You never told me you're…the...the…"

"The _what_?" Merry peered down at the upset girl.

"Master of Buckland! At least, the next one in line!"

Merry's stomach sank to his toes. How did she find out. "Oh, brother. Who told you?" He pressed his fingers to his temples and walked uphill. He couldn't hear Gwyn's soft footsteps, but he knew she was following.

"A…a friend." Gwyn stuttered. "That's…not the point. The point is…" she gulped in some air, "…I do not associate with politician-type folk."

"Why not?" Merry twisted his mouth wryly. "Something wrong with 'em?"

"Yes! They're deceitful, dishonest, stuck-up, prudish, shallow, and…and…" Gwyn trailed off, staring up into Merry's eyes.

He gazed back calmly. "And am I any of these qualities?"

Gwyn blinked, finally calmed down and just bewildered. "…No."

"There you go," Merry responded softly. He dared to reach out and touch her upper arm gently. "See, Gwyn? Not all politicians are like that. Why, Pippin is soon to be the Thain of the Shire. Is he stuck-up or shallow? And didn't you mention you were friends with the mayor of Newbury's daughter? I'm guessing she's nice, since you are friends with her. Am I right?"

"Yes, Merry," Gwyn looked down, clearly ashamed.

"Hey," Merry smiled at her, "It's okay. I'm not offended."

"Really?" Gwyn looked up at him shyly.

"Really."

She nodded, pursuing her lips. "All right. …Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Gwyn walked downhill without a word. Merry shook his head. For such a quiet, secretive girl, she had a lot of feistiness and humor.

Something cold and wet dripped on his cheek. He looked up; the sky was darkening again. _Okay, I rest my case. Frodo was right._ He hurried after Gwyn ad they went inside. In a matter of minutes, it was raining cats and dogs.

Merry sat next to Gwyn at the counter, watching Melonna prepare leftover beef from last night's supper and chicken chowder from dinner.

"…Merry?" Gwyn asked uncertainly, keeping her eyes averted from his.

"Yes?" He answered curiously.

"Uh…um…is it true that…you've been in the company of men…and elves…and even _orcs_?" Gwyn peered up at him with piqued interest.

Shocked, Merry didn't know what to say. Melonna stopped stirring the warming soup and glanced at Gwyn. "How did you know that, Gwyn?" She spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Who _told _you?" Merry demanded.

"So it's _true_?" Gwyn gasped.

Melonna stepped forward. "_Who_ told you, Gwyn? I bet it was that arrogant, no-good, gossipy Sigismond Noakes! He's always poking his nose in nobody's business and tellin' others about it!"

Merry glared at Gwyn. "Is Sigismond this 'friend' of yours?"

Gwyn sucked in a breath, eyes widening. "Y-yes! At least…he used to be." She muttered darkly.

Melonna looked at her cousin. "Sigismond used to live in Newbury. He was my next-door neighbor, and he, I, Gwyn, Cec, Mira, and…some others would run out and play every day after school. Sigismond moved here just six months ago."

"I see," Merry nodded. "No doubt he heard the chatter in town when we returned."

"What's…what's so bad about that, Merry?" Gwyn's voice quavered.

"I…I don't know." Merry shrugged and exhaled heavily. "We just don't want a lot of attention if people find out our story…and…"

"_Meeeeeee-reeeeeeeeeeee!"_

_Merry coughed, struggling to his knees. He'd fallen from Eowyn's steed and fallen against a dead oliphaunt. He ached all over and the smoke from the battlefield made him cough. Crawling across the grass, he gazed in horror as the wicked Witch-king's fell beast dove for King Théoden and his horse, biting at him and tossing master and horse into the air. Théoden fell to the ground, wounded, and his dying, chewed-up horse fell on top of him._

_Merry's throat constricted. He watched Eowyn, who'd recently called for him, gape in horror at the gross sight. Then she bravely took out her sword and savagely cut off the fell beast's neck in two slashes. The beast lay there, disembodied, and the terrifying Witch-king rose from his saddle. He had a horned mask that hid his faceless head, and yet Merry could imagine it as a horrible, evil expression with anger and malice within._

_The Witch-king advanced towards Eowyn and attempted to kill her with his deadly weapon. As he finally got Eowyn down, unarmed, he prepared his killing blow—but Merry couldn't let Eowyn, who he loved, die. He _wouldn't_! He stabbed the Witch-king in the back with all of his might. Screaming in pain, he clutched his arm and fell back. But now—the Witch-king was wounded and kneeling onto the ground._

"…Merry?" Melonna spoke up softly and touched Merry's arm—the same arm that he used to stab the Nazgul. He flinched in pain.

"…Are you all right?" Gwyn whispered, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes," Merry nodded quickly. "I apologize…I was relieving…a memory." Then he realized that he'd been tearing up. He blinked quickly.

Gwyn's lip trembled. "I'm…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Surprised by how emotional she was getting, Merry shook his head. "No, it's all right—"

"No…no…" Gwyn whimpered. "I've been yelled at for being so mouthy, and here I go again." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap." Weeping, she jumped off the stool and rushed away. Merry and Melonna heard her door slam.

Merry and Melonna looked at each other, feeling helpless at the moment.

* * *

Gwyn didn't leave her room all afternoon. Even when Melonna tried to coax her out with tea, Gwyn refused. Melonna left some vegetable soup from Rosie at her door for dinner. Gwyn took it, and then left it out soon after. But she remained in her room.

Melonna hoped Gwyn wouldn't be angry with her for not telling her about Sigi living in Hobbiton; she knew if she told Gwyn, she'd refuse to go get Merry's ponies. And she also worried that Gwyn would go back to her introverted, reclusive self. She'd been opening up so well this morning…and then Sigi and the question about the Quest had ruined it all.

Melonna tiptoed up to Gwyn's room and listened silently at the door. After a few seconds, Melonna knew she must be sleeping. So was Merry, in his own room. She then decided to return to bed herself.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, Melonna opened her eyes and huffed in frustration. She just couldn't sleep.

She turned her head to face her window, which was over her at the left of her bed. Her eyes trailed from the moonlit window, which cast shadows from her potted plants to the floor. The rain and clouds from this afternoon had quickly departed as twilight approached.

All of a sudden, a silhouette of a hobbit appeared on the floor. Stifling a scream, Melonna sat up quickly and looked out the window in fright.

There was no one there.

Her breath quickened. Trembling, she rose from bed and stared out the window. She opened the panes. "Hello?" She called out.

But there was no answer.

But Melonna knew this time that someone was out there. And she even knew _who_.

With a determined pace, she wrapped her long flannel robe around her nightgown and then pulled on her cape. She quietly and briskly went out to the door. Silently, she opened and closed it, stepping out into the chilly air of night.

"Hello?" She called out softly. Her bare feet padded down the freezing stone steps.

A rustle from the bushes at the gate startled her. Melonna narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together briefly.

"Come out from there. I know you're in there. You needn't hide."

No reply.

Melonna didn't know if she should run away or go seek him out. "…Please?" She pleaded. "You know not to be afraid of me. Please?"

Slowly, out of the shadows, came a tall, pale-faced hobbit with black hair hanging into his bright black eyes that reflected the moon.

Melonna felt herself begin to shake, and tears burned her eyes. "Oh…" she murmured.

The grim-faced hobbit's mouth split into a weak, sad, but noticeable smile. "Melonna," he whispered, and held out his arms uncertainly.

"_Griffin!_" Melonna broke into tears and ran into his arms willingly. She sobbed into his torn, filthy tunic and couldn't believe he was here again, after all these years.

Griffin kept his arms around her upper back in a very gentle hold, as if he was uncertain of what to do.

"Griffin…Griffin…" Melonna wept and clung to him. "…It's okay…hold me…you can hold me…"

"Oh, Melonna," Griffin finally held her tighter, "Why are you crying?"

Melonna stopped and stepped back slightly. Angrily, she swung up a hand and slapped his face. Griffin stumbled back. "_Ow!_ What the—what was that for?"

"For leaving us and breaking out hearts like that—as if you didn't care!" Melonna yelled, and then cried more, hugging Griffin again. Griffin sighed in partial exasperation and rocked her slightly sideways. "There, there…it's okay. You're going to be okay."

Melonna nodded and sniffled, finally done with her waterfall of tears. She quickly wiped at her cheeks and managed a tremulous smile at her friend. "Where have you been all these years, Griffo Whitfoot?"

Griffin half-grimaced at his odd full name and gulped, averting his gaze over her. "I…I was traveling. A lot. After Ada and Ilberic's deaths, the first place I went to was Haysend. But…" he sighed, closing his eyes. "I still felt the pain and shame…I had to leave Buckland altogether, Melonna. So I went to Stockbrook. Then I headed up north to Girdley Island without setting foot into Buckland."

"How is it there?" Melonna wanted to know.

Griffin smiled grimly. "Lonely. But I like it. No one knows who I really am."

Melonna shook her head. "Everyone would understand if you told them what you did was an _accident_."

Griffin bit his lip, a habit he did when he didn't want to talk about something. Melonna decided to drop the topic. "What…what are you doing here?"

Griffin shrugged. "I've been debating with the idea of returning home. But I don't know if I want to. Besides…I heard you were living here now."

"So you were the one at my window the other night," Melonna smiled. "I'm so happy you've returned." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "_Brr_…you're so cold, Griffin. Let's go inside." She tugged at his sleeve. But he hung back.

"No…I've got to go." He muttered.

"Griffin, please," Melonna pleaded. But Griffin shook his head. Touching her cheek lightly, he gave her a wan smile. "You along with everyone else are better off without me."

Melonna stared wordlessly at Griffin as he swiftly vanished into the darkness.

* * *

_**A/N: Oooohhh…exciting, isn't it? So sorry if the chapter's super-long. XD But it makes up for short Chapter 9, doesn't it? ;) Hope the ending didn't end too quickly for you all, though! I honestly didn't like this chapter very much...but, like I always say, please tell me what YOU think! :) Thank you! Have a nice day. :D**_

_**IMPORTANT! I have drawn a poll. It's on my profile! It's about whether Frodo should leave Middle-earth or not. :P Please do vote. ALL OF YOU. :) Thank you!**_


	11. Lasses' Day Out

_**Chapter Eleven: Lasses' Day Out**_

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_**A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! I love it when I'm inspired to write, but I hate it when I'm too lazy **_**to**_** write. XP**_

_**Thank you, LadyDoroAnne, for the delicious homemade cheesy potato soup with the biscuits with the rolls you left in your review; I really enjoyed them. ;) And your wish is granted in the next chapter – Merry does indeed tell Gwyn about the Quest! YAY! :D It comes soon; hold on to your seatbelts! ;)**_

_**Karm Starkiller, I understand how you feel; I have a real life, too…I can't believe it. :O LOL. ;) Oh, I hope you like Pippin in this chapter – he's quite amusing. ;) I hope. :P Come on, you just GOT to love him no matter what, right? :D**_

_**To Jen Lewis, I am encouraged by your positive feedback! If there is anything else you'd want me to know, do tell me. :)**_

_**DancingRaindrops, you'll find just a little about Griffin in chapters 4, 6, and 9, and Frodo and Melonna's fight is in Chapter 6…do your homework, young lady! XP Haha. ;) And James Conroy is not cool; he's creepy, why do you think I compared him to Sigi? ;D LOL. Thanks for your help and REVIEWING, of course! (*Coughs,* I still can't believe she reviews. HAHAHA, just kidding! ;D) Love ya. ;)**_

_**estie793, OH, I know Frodo's being a jerkwad don't worry, I'll make him stop; he apologizes in the next chapter. :) And this chapter is especially for you – mostly fluff and very little drama. :D I don't like Sigi, either…who knows why I made him up… :P He plays an important role in this story, you'll see! Don't worry; he won't be around too much. :) Here you go, a relaxing chapter that you won't have to angst over. :) (And Gwyn tells of her past…very soon. :)**_

_**To the rest of you…REVIEW, PLEASE! You get a shout-out as a reward. :D And to my too-busy reviewers, don't worry, I understand. :) Just let me know how you're doing!**_

_**Chapter 12 is on its way soon, so prepare yourselves. ;D**_

_**Thanks to mecherry for betaing this chapter!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own The Lord of the Rings in my dreams. But in the sad reality, it belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and…er, New Line Cinema, right? Sigh.**_

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Gwyn yawned, stretching her arms upward. The covers felt a bit too warm on her so she nudged them off. Smacking her lips in contentment, she rolled over on her side.

She frowned, realizing her room was much too bright. Either someone lit a fire in her room or it was late morning, and, wait, did she smell ham? Oh, she loved ham! Smiling, Gwyn opened her eyes, waiting to see her papa standing over her to serve her ham for breakfast.

Her smile disappeared when she remembered her surroundings. She wasn't in Newbury anymore; this was Meriadoc Brandybuck's hobbit-hole in Hobbiton.

And in the past three years, Gwyn's family certainly wouldn't be able to afford buying a ham. Ham was expensive in the Shire. Utterly ridiculous, right?

And yesterday happened to have a good morning that passed into a bad afternoon for Gwyn.

That two-timing, arrogant fool Sigi.

And that big mouth of Gwyn's.

Groaning, Gwyn slapped her forehead.

Papa's familiar, metaphorical words of optimism came back to remind her that everything wasn't about her, and everything wasn't a bad thing. _"Now, now, Gwynnie-girl! What's gotten your little mouth to frown so? Come here, and let me tell you something. See how sunny it is today? Don't make the sun sad when you go outside with that frown on your face. The sun loves to smile, and so should you."_

Sighing, Gwyn nodded, deciding not to feel sorry for herself and hide out in her room all day. She got up and headed for the kitchen. Down the hallway, she heard multiple voices chattering and laughing in the kitchen. Wondering who else had shown up, Gwyn cautiously peeked around the doorway.

She saw Melonna sitting on the stool before the counter. She seemed unnaturally quiet and distracted. But Rosie Cotton bustled around with an animated smile as she helped a stranger girl with slicing the ham. The girl had curly, upturned hair the color of brown sugar and she had a round posture, not fat but not thin either. Her face was turned away from Gwyn's view.

Rosie turned away from the counter and saw Gwyn, who was hiding partially behind the wall. "Gwyn!" She smiled happily, "Look, Melonna, you were right. The smell of ham would indeed draw her here." She laughed.

Shyly, Gwyn walked into the kitchen and went to stand by Melonna. She felt quite silly, standing close to Melonna like a timid child with her mother. Melonna, however, put her hand around Gwyn's shoulder affectionately. "Gwyn…meet Diamond of Long Cleeve." Melonna used her free left hand to gesture at the brunette hobbit lass who was slicing the ham. Diamond looked up to smile at Gwyn shyly.

_Diamond of Long Cleeve? Oh, dear._

But Diamond seemed not to recognize Gwyn at all. Melonna smiled at Diamond, "Diamond, this is my childhood friend, Gwynra Whitfoot."

"Hello," Diamond nodded quietly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Gwyn replied in a soft voice.

"Aw, look at you two," Rosie cooed, "You both could be the best of friends—being so shy and all." She giggled.

"Yes, but Diamond's shyness is the innocent, cautious kind, and Gwyn's is the paranoid, suspicious kind," Melonna snickered. Gwyn elbowed her in the ribs.

"Ow!"

Gwyn just smiled sweetly at her blonde friend.

Diamond brushed away her light brown curls, rolling her eyes. "Very funny, Rosie."

Melonna smiled at her new friend. "You'll like Gwyn, don't worry. Just don't be nosy." She winked.

Diamond stiffened her spine. "I am not nosy," her response was feisty but not intentionally rude.

"She reminds me of someone I know," Melonna whispered teasingly at Gwyn.

She glared. "Do you want me to elbow you again?"

"Er—no." Melonna pulled away from Gwyn and laughed.

It was then when Gwyn realized Merry wasn't here. "Uh…where's he? Merry?" She inquired.

"Merry is with Pippin, in downtown Hobbiton," Melonna explained and her eyes still sparkled with teasing. "Why? Do you _miss_ him?"

Gwyn blushed, suddenly wanting to push Melonna off the stool. "_No!_ I mean…I…I was just wondering, that's _all_."

"So…" Rosie smiled at Gwyn curiously, "I was wondering how you met Merry…through Melonna, I assume?"

"No." Gwyn shook her head. "Actually, it's a funny story…at least, you'd put it that way."

Melonna glanced sideways at Gwyn, "You know, I realized that I never asked you how you met my cousin…how?"

"Well…" Gwyn shrugged, "I was heading for home from downtown Hobbiton. I come by raft up the Brandywine usually. The day I met Merry—I was coming up a hill and headed for a raspberry bush. I thought I heard a fox, and I'm scared of them, so I ran through the bush—and I accidentally bumped into Merry…" Gwyn chuckled weakly, "More like crashed, actually. I knocked him down."

Rosie, Melonna, and Diamond listened with piqued curiosity and amused smiles. Inhaling, Gwyn continued, "I was in shock initially, so I didn't answer him until he finally asked me if I could talk. I thought he was nosy…" Gwyn snorted, "He _is_ nosy!"

The girls laughed and Melonna nodded, agreeing.

"Anyway—I finally told him I had to go…and I went. And that was it." Gwyn finished.

"That's so romantic," Diamond gushed just when Gwyn drank milk offered by Rosie. She choked. "Wha—?" She sputtered between gulps. Melonna and Rosie laughed gaily. "Romantic!" Melonna replied and snorted, grinning.

"H—how is it—it _romantic_?" Gwyn stammered, sipping more milk to ease her throat.

"Well, how you met him, of course!" Diamond smiled brightly. "When did you two get married?"

"MARRIED?" Gwyn and Melonna shrieked. Melonna cackled hysterically and had to nab Gwyn's milk to control her breathing difficulty. Gwyn wanted to hit Diamond with a pan and run for her life at the same time.

Rosie smiled in amusement but told Diamond gently, "Um, Diamond dear, Gwyn isn't Merry's wife—they're both unmarried, actually."

"Oh," Diamond squeaked, her freckled face turning red. "But…she—you _live_ here, Gwyn…"

"Y-y-yes," Gwyn stuttered, "But it's o-o-only temp—temporary, and sin-since Melonna lives here too, it's c-considered a-a-a-acceptable. Oh, and we all have s-sep-separate rooms, m-m-most definitely."

"I haven't heard you stutter that much since Sigi proposed to you," Melonna smirked.

Gwyn shot Melonna a murderous glare. Realizing her error, Melonna paled. "Oh, Gwyn—I'm so sorry!"

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Diamond interrupted quietly. "I'm so sorry for embarrassing you, Gwynra."

A much-calmer Gwyn shook her head, "No, it's—it's fine. Your question just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Is Sigi your fiancé, if you don't mind my asking?" Rosie inquired cautiously.

"_Former_ fiancé," Gwyn and Melonna emphasized in unison.

"Oh," Rosie replied quietly. "Sigismond Noakes?"

"That's him." Gwyn nodded, frowning.

"That hobbit is bad news," Melonna spat. "He—" she glanced at Gwyn hastily, but Gwyn consented her head, allowing her to continue.

"He went behind Gwyn's back with other girl, and then after…" she faltered and thought through her words carefully, "…After a year of being together, Gwyn and Sigi mutually decided to break off the engagement."

"Oh, my," Rosie's expression was of shock and disgust. "I don't think I'll be visiting the Noakes' stables alone again. I just _knew_ there wasn't something quite right about Sigismond."

Melonna shrugged. "Yes…well, let's not treat him badly, shall we? We shouldn't gossip about this."

"Of course," Rosie, Diamond, and even Gwyn chorused.

Diamond looked sideways to the finished ham. "Oh, dear, it's getting cold," she muttered and rushed over. "Oh"! Rosie cried. "The oatmeal!" She retreated to the fireplace where the pot of bubbling oatmeal was ready to be served.

The young lasses sat around the table and Melonna said the blessing, and then they ate.

"Gwyn," Rosie smiled cheerfully at her as she stirred brown sugar into her oatmeal, "Diamond and I plan to go into downtown to visit the marketplace. Prisca Hornblower, who is known for her excellent skills with sewing and making lovely outfits, is selling some of the clothes she's made. Melonna wants to come along, and we think you should, too."

Gwyn was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She'd rather stay here—but she'd feel bad if she said _no_ to Rosie and Melonna.

"You don't have to, really," Melonna said softly, "It's all right if you stay here."

Gwyn started. Melonna usually would beg and play cute to coerce Gwyn into coming—but _now_, she was letting her stay?

Deciding to survive Hobbiton once again, Gwyn nodded. "All right. I'll go."

Rosie smiled brightly. "Oh, wonderful! I'm so glad."

But Melonna just nodded slightly and focused on her food. Her playful mood seemed to have dwindled. Gwyn wondered why.

Rosie seemed not to notice and went on chatting with Diamond. The two were becoming fast friends.

When breakfast was over, Rosie and Diamond did the dishes while Melonna sat at the table. Gwyn left to her room to change from her nightdress to a light green gown and a light plaid green blouse. She took her white scarf and tied it around her head to keep her curls out of her face. Then she returned to the kitchen and joined Melonna at the table.

"Melonna…something wrong?" Gwyn asked. For once, she wanted the younger girl to chatter her head off. Quiet Melonna was worrisome.

Melonna offered a weak smile. "No. I'm fine."

Gwyn shook her head slightly. "No…there is something wrong. You're not usually this way. I _know_ you, Melonna."

Melonna's dark blue eyes took on a flickering shade, as if she was forming a plan insides her head. "Oh…" she smiled sweetly. "It's nothing, really. It's Frodo…I'm sure you've noticed, but we're not on the best terms." She chuckled bitterly, "Nothing like a reclusive, unforgiving hobbit that I can't handle. Really, Gwyn, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

Gwyn said nothing but only gave Melonna a reassuring smile. She sensed that Melonna may have brought up her problem with Frodo—as a ploy to distract her from the real one that she was dwelling so heavily upon. Well, it hadn't worked…but Gwyn knew Frodo was still another problem of Melonna's, and she wanted to help fix it.

It was a warm day—the cold weather had reared its ugly head and ran off, letting autumn have some last days of sunshine and warmth.

Melonna and Diamond skipped over puddles, laughing like little hobbit children while Rosie and Gwyn maintained ladylike glides and stayed in companionable silence. Gwyn appreciated Rosie a lot—she was kind, cheerful, and yet respectful of Gwyn's desire for silence for once in a while, and she was bubbly and optimistic about just everything. In a way, she was like Melonna. Only Melonna was more innocent, free-spirited and she had a headstrong temper, and in Gwyn's opinion, a little too talkative!

Hobbiton was very busy today, much to Gwyn's dismay. She touched her scarf self-consciously, hoping she'd be ignored. And she _especially_ hoped she wouldn't see Sigi anywhere.

_Loosen up. Relax._ She mentally told herself. For too long she'd been called a downer and a stick in the mud. No. This time, she aimed to make the best out of today, unlike yesterday afternoon.

"Let's split up," Rosie announced. "Melonna, come with me to Prisca's over there?"

"Sure," Melonna dimpled, "And, Diamond, even though you're new here, surely you know your way around now? Perhaps you'll show Gwyn around?"

"Of course," Diamond nodded. They waved at each other, and then Gwyn and Diamond stared at each other in awkward silence, standing in the middle of the cobblestone street.

"Oh, I know what we can do," Diamond piped up, "Let's find a wedding gift for Sam and Rosie. Rosie has been nothing but kind to me since I moved here and she has invited me to her wedding. Maybe she'll invite you too, Gwynra!"

"Call me Gwyn, please," Gwyn insisted, "And I'd like to do that with you, Diamond!"

Diamond giggled. "We barely know Rosie…it'll be fun finding what to get for her."

Gwyn nodded and linked her arm around Diamond, and they headed over to the assorted goods shop.

Half an hour later, Gwyn and Diamond had found a blue-and-green quilt that would look lovely on Sam and Rosie's future bed. It was of a fair price.

Diamond had it wrapped in brown paper and then they headed out of the shop, laughing about an escapade of Diamond's older brother. Then someone, out of the blue, ran around the corner and skidded into a halt, nearly crashing into Diamond. "_Oh!_" She cried out and dropped the bundle. Fortunately, it didn't fall into a puddle. With a stricken expression, Diamond looked up from the fallen gift to the hobbit who had carelessly bumped into her. Gwyn watched Diamond's dark brown eyes turn from a horrified glare to venomous narrow-eyed stare. "You!" She spat at Peregrin Took, who looked as if he'd like to crawl into a hole and die.

"Miss Diamond…I'm so sorry," Pippin looked down guiltily. Gwyn felt sorry for him—after all, Diamond still thought he was the one who'd thrown water at her the other day.

"What more will you do?" Diamond cried in despair. "Look at this, you almost ruined a gift Gwyn and I bought! What do you have against me?"

"Miss Diamond, I—" Pippin gave Gwyn a brief pleading glance. Finally, Gwyn's conscience pushed her to the edge. "Diamond!" She burst out. 'Wait," she laid a hand on the shorter lass's shoulder.

"What?" Diamond glanced up at Gwyn. Gwyn gave her a reproachful glance. "Diamond…please don't blame Pippin for the day _I_ dumped water on you."

"…_You?_" Diamond's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes." Gwyn nodded, ashamed. "That was me. I was upset with Pippin, so I threw water at him, but he ducked and the water hit you. We didn't know you were behind us, and it was not Pippin's fault at all. Please forgive me for being dishonest and cowardly…Diamond."

Diamond said absolutely nothing, staring at Gwyn wide-eyed. Pippin gulped and nibbled his bottom lip nervously. Gwyn cringed, waiting for Diamond to tear into her.

Instead, Diamond's eyes welled up with tears—big, fat drops rolled down her cheeks. "Oh." She mumbled as she turned to face Pippin. "I'm…I'm sorry," she squeaked, covering her eyes, about to weep.

_If there's something I can't stand, it's a crying hobbit!_ Gwyn groaned inwardly. "D-Di-Diamond, don't cry, please," she whispered and gingerly touched her shoulder.

And then Pippin did the unexpected. He suddenly plucked a daisy from a small patch of flowers clustered with weeds under the window of the shop, knelt on one knee, and took Diamond's hands into his own. "Fear not, my lady," he proclaimed, "For I forgive you from the bottom of my heart."

Instantly, the poor girl stopped weeping. She opened her eyes and stared down at Pippin. He sent her a cheeky and yet charming grin. Gwyn suppressed a smile at this ridiculously adorable scene.

Pippin pushed the daisy into Diamond's hand and kissed her fingers briefly. Gwyn couldn't hold in any longer—she laughed aloud, nearly clapping her hands in glee. Bystanders stopped by and pointed, but mostly out of amusement and fascination than mockery.

Finally, Diamond's mouth broke into a reluctant, embarrassed, but relieved smile. She blushed visibly when she realized people were watching. Pulling her hands away, she looked away shyly. Looking very much pleased with himself, Pippin got back up and smiled at Diamond. Gwyn suddenly had this outrageous urge to reach over and pinch both of their cheeks and croon, _"Aaww, aren't you two sweet?"_ Shaking her head, she picked up the quilt and walked away. "I'll leave you two alone," she called over her shoulder, sending Pippin a wink. He shot her a grateful smile.

She turned only to bump into Merry. She gasped and stumbled back, but he quickly reached out and took her arms, steadying her. "Whoa, don't be hasty," he laughed. Gwyn immediately remembered the day they met, and she blushed.

Merry let go of her. He seemed uncharacteristically flustered. "Um…so, Gwyn…back there…I'm proud of you." He smiled at her.

Gwyn nodded slightly. "Thank you. It wasn't right…letting Pippin be accused of something he didn't do, you know."

"Yes," Merry repeated softly.

"You know, I was wondering where you were earlier this morning," Gwyn told him without thinking. And as expected, Merry's dark eyes twinkled. "Oh? Miss me?" He smirked. Gwyn blushed hotly. "No, of course not—I mean—I—you—_ugh_!"

Merry laughed good-naturedly and shook her shoulder lightly. "Hey, I'm just teasing. You don't have to miss me if you don't want to, you know."

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Actually, Merry, I'd miss everything about you—except for your teasing!"

Merry feigned hurt. "But…teasing is basically what I do most every day…I love to tease everyone, especially feisty and forgetful lasses like you."

Gwyn shook her head, annoyed but amused at the same time.

Merry licked his lips before continuing, "So, what are you doing here, anyway? I'm surprised you are…especially after yesterday." His expression turned apologetic. "I'm sorry that I was harsh with you."

"It's all right, I know you didn't mean to be," Gwyn reassured him. "I came because I didn't want to refuse Rosie's pleas. And come what may, I'm actually enjoying this." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Diamond and I bought her a wedding gift." She gestured to the large package she held.

"Oh, that's very nice," Merry observed. "That reminds me—Sam said that Rosie wants to invite you to her wedding as well."

"That's really sweet of her," Gwyn smiled. "I'd love to go. When is it?"

"In five months—May 1st." Merry informed. "Now that it's almost October, I'm worried about my corn crop, since it's barely halfway to its full height. I promised Rosie and Sam half of my corn crop for their wedding feast. I think I may have planted them a little too late this summer."

"Oh, well, I hope it grows fully soon," Gwyn assured.

"Yes," Merry acknowledged just as Rosie and Melonna walked up to them. Gwyn glared at Melonna's raised eyebrows and suggestive smile.

"Melonna, Rosie, hello! I'm glad you two managed to drag Gwyn all the way here without her kicking and screaming." Merry grinned at them and winked at Gwyn. Indignantly, Gwyn let out a huff. "They did not _drag_ me here, Meriadoc Brandybuck! I decided for myself to come along. …So-so there."

"No need to be defensive," Merry raised his hands and chided her with mirth in his tone.

"Oh, look at you two…" Rosie smiled.

Merry's smile instantly vanished. "Don't you even _think_ about it, Rose Cotton."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Gwyn muttered under her breath. Merry seemed to be very much against the idea of being with Gwyn just as she did.

Rosie shrugged. "Oh, all right. No need to be defensive about it, Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"What is with folk calling me by my full name?" Merry rolled his eyes.

"Because they think it's fun, Meriad—"

"Not you too, Melonna!"

"_Sor—ry._"

Diamond came up to the group, smiling like a cat after catching its mouse. Gwyn hid her amused smile.

"Hello…are we ready to go, Rosie?" Diamond looked at Rosie curiously.

"Yes," she replied, "At least, if Gwyn is, too." She held up a plaid light blue dress, "By the way, I thought you'd like this, Di."

"Oh, thank you," Diamond gushed, her eyes growing wide like saucers. "You're too kind," she seemed truly touched.

"Well, I am ready to go," Gwyn assented. "I'm always ready to go."

"All right," Melonna shook her head curtly. "Shall we, girls?"

"See you soon, lasses…" Merry nodded at each and then gave Gwyn a smirk, "…Gwynra Whitfoot."

Gwyn tilted her head and turned on her heels, walking away with an air of dignity. She pushed away the strange flickering feeling she had in her heart.

Just as she followed Rosie, Melonna, and Diamond down the street, the corner of her eye caught someone standing at the entrance of the stable. Gwyn craned her neck sideways to see Sigismond Noakes just a couple of yards away from her, quite distanced but not enough to miss his penetrating stare connecting with hers. Gwyn shuddered inwardly and quickly looked away.

Diamond's home was just at the outskirts of downtown Hobbiton, so she was the first one to depart.

When Rosie, Melonna, and Gwyn reached Bag End, Gwyn stalled by the gate up to Frodo Baggins' hobbit-hole. Sensing Gwyn's stopped footsteps, Melonna and Rosie turned around.

"Um…what is it?" Melonna asked, her eyebrows scrunching together at the thought of being close to Frodo Baggins' home.

"Uh…I think I need to ask Frodo something," Gwyn carefully answered, "You see, him being a former fellow Buckland hobbit…"

Rosie, believing every word of Gwyn's little white lie, nodded. "Of course. See you later, then, Gwyn."

But Melonna's expression was suspicious. However, she assented her head. "…Very well then. See you at home." With that, the girls walked away.

Sighing with relief, Gwyn headed up to Frodo's door. She didn't notice he had been watching her from his front window.

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_What is she doing here?_ Frodo wondered as he headed for his door. He opened it just before Gwynra's fist was about to knock. Startled, she jumped back. "Oh! Master Baggins. I didn't know you were…"

"I saw you come up here," Frodo replied matter-of-factly. "Is there something you need, Miss Whitfoot?"

"Y-yes," Gwynra nodded. Her hair, hidden in a white scarf, was peeking out and curls fell down her fair face. Frodo wondered if Merry was taken with her yet—she was quite lovely. "Um, I need to talk to you about Melonna."

"_What?_" Frodo's tone came out sharper than intended. He cleared his throat to soften his voice. "I mean…what-what about Melonna?"

"Well, you see, Master Baggins, I was really concerned for Melonna and even you yesterday, with that scene you two made at breakfast time…I'd like to know why you two are on…er…_hostile_ terms…"

Frodo's first thought was that this girl had a lot of nerve…then he realized that there was some truth in her words. "…Go on." He inclined his head once.

"Master Baggins," Gwynra started again, her hands wringing together in an anxious fashion, "Melonna is my dear friend, and I hate to see her mad at someone, and especially if it's mutual. What did you do…or _she_?"

Sighing, Frodo stepped outside and closed the door behind him. "Gwynra, three weeks ago, Melonna was at my house. I caught her in my private study, where I was writing a…private autobiography. I was very angry with her, and I was too harsh with her. She got angry as well and…insulted me. I told her to leave, and she did. Ever since…she's been mad at me, and…well…I think my grudge is becoming somewhat of a petty choice that I should've cast away sooner." He thinned his lips, surprised at how he'd been so revealing to an almost-stranger. But Gwynra _did_ have a right to know.

Gwynra stared up at him with a slightly sympathetic expression. "I can understand how you feel. Trust me, Melonna is…quite…_something_…" she chuckled lightly before continuing, "…But she's just turned into an adult hobbit. She's almost fully matured in emotions…and I can tell she is changing for the better and she _wants _to, and I think, Master Baggins, that Melonna could be helped with a little more _encouraging_ and little less harsh words."

Frodo was impressed with her simple wisdom, and now he felt regret that he had been so sharp and unforgiving with Melonna. "You are right, Gwynra. I shall apologize to her very soon," he said, and he _meant _it.

The lass smiled at him. "Thank you. I'm relieved."

Frodo smiled back. Though he did not fully trust Gwynra, he was beginning to see she did have some value and virtue in her.

"I'll leave you alone now." Gwynra spoke up softly. "I know what it's like to be…_different_…I isolate myself, too."

Frodo blinked at her words. Some might be offended by that, but he wasn't. He could tell Gwynra meant well with them. "Yes. Thank you. Good day." He bowed slightly and retreated into his hobbit-hole.

Sighing, he walked over to his living room and watched Gwynra walk away to Merry's home. Tonight or tomorrow, he would go apologize to Melonna.

Would _she_ forgive him as well?

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_**A/N: YAY, I'm finished! :D Please read and review, my dears. :)**_

_**- Heidi **_

_**P.S. Oh, yes, and please, please, PLEASE vote on my poll on my profile. I have only 6 votes on it so far (I voted on it as well *smiles sheepishly*), and I really need a bigger result before I decide. :/ Thank you!**_


	12. Merry's Story

_**Chapter Twelve: Merry's Story**_

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_**A/N: Here it is—the chapter that some of you have been waiting for! :D Get ready for a suspenseful, angst-ridden chapter. :P**_

_**estie793 – I'm sorry to trouble you with this rather dramatic chapter… :P But I hope you enjoy it anyway. Chapter 13 should be rather dramatic, but Chapter 14 will be fluffy once again. :) And no Sigi in this chapter or the next, so YAY! ;D I love it when you send me long reviews, by the way. :) And I'm relieved you found the Pippin/Diamond scene rather cute (even if also moronic ;); it seems like everyone did. :) Teehee, I just love Pippin. XD Yup, Frodo now is no longer a jerkface! :) You might like him in this one; he's rather sweet. :D Oh, and Griffin makes a dramatic appearance as well! Oooh! :)**_

_**Eruanna Undomiel – YAY, thank you for reviewing! :D And I completely understand; I hate logging in, too. XP Why the heck do we have to be logged out every three days? It gets on my nerves, seriously. :P Anyway, I'm so glad this story is meeting up to your expectations so far! :D Thanks once again. :) I'll try to PM you soon, by the way—I'm sorry for not doing so lately!**_

_**LadyDoroAnne – Haha, I love your reactions to my chapters. :D They always make me smile. :) I hope this chapter pleases you very much, because it's for you. For what you asked. :D Enjoy!**_

_**DancingRaindrops – Keep reviewing, Miss Raindrops. XP Keep reviewing.**_

_**Please vote on my poll on my profile. If you want to see a more desperate plea, look at my author's note at the bottom. :P**_

_**Oh, and I have an one-shot about Frodo and Sam, entitled **__**Side By Side As Brothers**__** up now…I would love it if you looked at it and reviewed. :) (And special thanks to estie793, Distant Lands, Frodo's sister, [anonymous] **__**fjslfkjlfkjf, and creepycrawlies22 **__**for reviewing on it! :)**_

_**Hmm, I think that's all for now. :)**_

_**I hope each one of you will have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! :D *Sends virtual hugs and cookies.* :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I own The Lord of the Rings! YAY! :D Wait, what? You mean that letter saying J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema gave their rights to me was a FRAUD? Okay, what sick joke is this? D:**_

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Three weeks passed. The weather turned chillier and the trees began turning orange, red, and yellow, and they fell to the ground. Hobbit parents gathered the leaves into piles and let their children frolic and play in the leaves.

Most of the crops were harvested, firewood cut to make ready for nightly bonfires, and warm clothes worn.

Nights were so chilly one could see his breath float into the frigid air, but there was no snow yet. Hobbits did not expect any until after the Autumn's End Harvest Festival annually held in Hobbiton.

One starry and moonlit night, Gwyn and Melonna were making a late supper. Dinner had been a success, thanks to Melonna, who finally had learned how to make a proper chicken stew. Supper was going to be roast beef. Gwyn watched Melonna like a proud mother after her own daughter. Melonna opened the pot over the fire. "Mmmm. It smells _good_, Gwyn," Melonna looked up at Gwyn with delight.

Gwyn grinned and clapped her hands a little. "Wonderful job, Melonna! Merry will be so pleased."

"All thanks to you," Melonna rose up and threw her arms around Gwyn's neck, hugging her in jubilation. Gwyn laughed and hugged her back, a gesture that satisfied Melonna. Gwyn wasn't usually an affectionate hobbit, so small gestures like this were special.

"All right—now go tell Merry to get his head out of his closet and come eat!" Melonna giggled. Gwyn nodded, skipping away. She had become quite happier and more sociable in the past few weeks, which relieved Melonna. Her coming here was certainly a good thing.

Gwyn sauntered into Merry's bedroom. She looked to the left, where Merry was crouched down and apparently holding something out of her view.

"Merry, it's time to eat. Roast beef, you know." Gwyn told him.

Merry looked up at her with a cocked grin. "That sounds lovely. I'll be right there."

"Okay," Gwyn stepped forward and rose on her tiptoes, leaning forwards slightly, trying to see what Merry held. "What-what do you have there?" She inquired timidly.

But before Merry could answer, the window across the room shattered and a gaunt, hooded hobbit dove in. Gwyn screamed in fright. Merry suddenly spun around just as the intruder lunged forward with a pitchfork. "MERRY!" Gwyn cried out.

Merry was fully prepared—the object he had been holding was a sword. With an intense expression, he did not jump back but struck his sword against the pitchfork's wooden handle, splintering it in half.

Melonna heard the commotion in the other room. She quickly took the pot away from the fire so the roast beef wouldn't overflow or burn, and then she ran into Merry's room.

She gasped, seeing the hobbit who had fallen under the force of Merry's sword. He looked up at Merry with a hostile expression. Before Melonna could cry out to him to stop, the hobbit jumped up and thrust his broken pitchfork towards Merry's leg. Melonna closed her eyes and whimpered fearfully.

Fortunately, the hobbit's attack was clumsy and barely missed Merry's leg; the sharp tip of one rod of the pitchfork slashed the skin of Merry's calf. He gave out a guttural cry of pain and advanced to strike.

Just then, Gwyn's arms came up around his body, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other holding the arm that held the sword. "_STOP!_" Gwyn shouted. "Stop, Merry, stop. Please don't hurt him." She whispered fearfully.

Melonna gave the fallen hobbit a closer look—and shock flooded her when she realized who it was.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Merry interjected raggedly, craning his neck slightly as if to look at Gwyn behind him, but his eyes did not leave the intruding hobbit. "Wait, do you know him?"

It took two seconds for Gwyn to finally answer. "…Yes. He's my brother." Gwyn spoke, sending Griffo Whitfoot a surprisingly calm gaze. Griffin stared back at her with a defensive stance.

Melonna swallowed hard. "…Merry, your leg is bleeding," she choked out.

Gwyn let go of Merry just as he gave out a curt groan of pain. "I—you…_Gwyn_…"

"Merry!" Melonna snapped, but then softened her firm tone, "Please, don't speak rashly."

Merry's gaze connected with Melonna and he nodded, breathing heavily. "Yes. Of course. So…" he looked down at Griffin, who was slowly getting up to his feet. "You're…?"

"Griffo Whitfoot." He spoke bluntly, his black eyes shining with a ferocity Melonna hadn't seen in years. "Gwyn's twin brother. And I've come to take her away so she can be safe—"

"_What?_" Gwyn exclaimed and stepped forward. "Griffin, _how dare you_! Attacking Merry without thought of if he is dangerous or _isn't_? Do you _honestly_ think I'd be here if he _was_?"

Griffin's eyes, so much like Gwyn's, flared. "Why, dear sister, this is the kind of greeting I get after not seeing you for three years?" He retorted coldly.

"You'd get a better greeting if you'd handled things by using your _brain_," Gwyn shot back angrily.

"Are you insinuating I'm _brainless_?" Griffin shouted harshly, looking as if he wanted to strike her.

"All right, stop—_STOP_!" Merry waved his hands and stepped between the Whitfoot twins. "This is getting out of hand, and I'm slightly injured, and very much confused. Melonna, get me—"

The front door slammed open and Frodo Baggins rushed in with a panicked expression. "Merry! You—" he looked down at Merry's leg and then up to Griffin. "…What happened?"

"My brother was born an impulsive fool, that's what happened," Gwyn spat, sending Griffin a furious glare.

"And my sister was born a jealous, conniving thief." Griffin growled. Melonna stepped forward and slapped him. Hard. "Griffin, be _SILENT_!" She yelled. Rubbing his cheek, Griffin scowled but consented to her command.

"What—is—going—on—_here_?" Frodo demanded in an uncharacteristically forceful tone.

Merry inhaled sharply in pain and leaned down, touching his bloodied calf. Blood seeped from the five-inch cut and dripped onto the floor.

"Explaining has to be done after Merry is tended to," Melonna removed her pink shawl and tied it around the wound.

"Oh, Melonna, I don't want you to ruin your shawl—" Merry shook his head frantically, but Melonna shushed him. "No, cousin, it is necessary." She rose and took Merry's arm. Frodo quickly came over and stood by Merry's other side, and they helped him across the hall to the dining room. "Frodo, can you get me some soap and a clean cloth?" Melonna asked. "It's in my bedroom."

"Of course," Frodo immediately went to do what he was told.

Gwyn and Griffin walked into the dining room silently. They wore guilty, worried expressions, but Gwyn's worry was clearly towards Merry's well-being. Melonna knew Griffin was just worried about getting into trouble.

Melonna helped Merry down into a cushioned rocking-chair. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. Melonna touched his forehead to check for a fever. It was plenty warm, but Melonna didn't know how warm it had to be for a fever. "Gwyn," she spoke up, "Can you tell if he has a fever?"

Gwyn nodded and scurried over, pressing her cool hand against Merry's forehead. She brushed away his blonde curls. "He's a little warmer than usual," Gwyn diagnosed, "But it's not too bad. Get him something to drink, Melonna." Her eyes flickered, as if she realized something. "Oh, and can you get sewing supplies? Merry may need stitches."

"Stitches?" Merry groaned, speaking up for the first time. Melonna had been afraid he would pass out, but he didn't.

"Please don't pass out, Merry," Melonna begged.

Merry shot her a glare. "Hobbit males do _not_ pass out, Melonna."

Melonna shook her head and ran for her bedroom. "Frodo," she spoke up abruptly as he came out with a small, square basket of cloth and a bar of soap. "Can you get warm water—and tea, as well?"

"Yes." He nodded with a worried expression. "Is he going to be all right, Melonna?"

"He may need stitches," Melonna informed him as she hurried into her bedroom. "Gwyn is checking on his injury right now."

Melonna returned into the dining room in no more than a minute. Frodo brought the warm water and placed it by the basket of cloth and soap on the floor by the rocking-chair. Merry was biting his lip and stiffening up.

Gwyn placed a hand on his shoulder. "Merry, please, relax," she chided firmly. She reached down and carefully untied the shawl around Merry's calf. The bleeding had slowed down, but the wound was split far open. Merry needed stitches, and she let him know. He banged the back of his head against the rocking-chair wall.

"Merry, it'll be okay, I promise," Gwyn took Merry's hand into her own. "I can't sew clothes, but I know how to sew up wounds. And I'll be gentle, I promise."

"Yeah, don't be a baby about it," Griffin muttered. Merry's eyes flew open and if Gwyn hadn't held his arms down against the armrest, Merry would've plowed Griffin down to the floor.

Melonna wanted to smack Griffin and kick him out—but then she saw he had wounds on his face and right arm as well. Were they already there before he'd come? Feeling some compassion for her old friend, Melonna stepped forward. "Griffin, you're bleeding a little, too…let me help you," she stepped forward.

Griffin shook his head and stepped away from her. "No. I'm fine, Melonna. Don't touch me."

"Yes, Melonna, don't touch him," Merry glared at her warningly. His face was deathly pale, but he was still fully conscious.

Gwyn sat on the footrest and pulled Merry's leg across her lap. "Merry, I'm going to compress your wound, soak and wash it, and then I will sew it, okay?" She had a professional nurse kind of expression, but her tone was gentle and concerned.

"Okay," Merry nodded, glancing at her briefly before refocusing on an unabashed Griffin. "And—_you_—explain yourself, Master Whitfoot."

Griffin leaned against the doorframe and smirked at Merry defiantly. "Why should I tell you…Master…?"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck. This is my cousin, Melonna, but I'm sure you already know her." Merry gestured at Melonna and then at Frodo, who stood by him with a protective-brother expression. "And this is my friend and neighbor, Frodo Baggins. Now, that I've introduced ourselves—tell us what is your business here."

Griffin licked his lips, a trait of his that implied he was nervous. "Well, Master Brandybuck…I, uh, I must apologize for my rash attack. But you really can't blame me. I was only protecting my sister."

"Why would you attack if you could see I was perfectly fine?" Gwyn burst out, sending her brother a pointed look.

"I'm afraid I wasn't using my _brain_, sister," Griffin sneered, leaning forward. Gwyn stiffened. "After all I've done for _you_—_this_ is how you thank me? By taking _his_ side?"

Gwyn partially rose abruptly, but when Merry gasped in pain, she remembered Merry's calf was on her lap and she sat back down. But her glare was furious. "I don't need protecting, Griffo Whitfoot." She shot out. "And since when have you been there for me? Last time I checked, you left just when I needed you the most…" she trailed off, unable to finish. Her breath caught, and Melonna knew she was fighting against crying. Merry suddenly wanted to take her into his arms but he quickly pushed aside that foolish notion.

"Can we please settle this in a more peaceful way?" Frodo spoke in a tense voice. Merry nodded in agreement.

Sighing in exasperation, Melonna flailed her hands. "Griffin, can we—can we just talk outside?"

"No!" Merry snapped. "I don't want you a mile anywhere near him, Melonna Goldworthy."

"Merry, _please_!" Melonna gave Merry a pleading glance. "I promise you, Griffin won't hurt me."

"Who was the one who came at me with a pitchfork?"

"Merry!" Gwyn sent him a scolding look. "Please…let her. I assure you, Griffin isn't dangerous…most of the time."

"Thank _you_." Griffin rolled his eyes and headed for the front door. Melonna looked at Merry with slight worry, and then followed Griffin.

"Frodo—" Merry started.

"I'll go with you, Melonna," Frodo nodded and walked up.

"No, _please_!" Melonna protested.

"_Hey!_" Merry waved a finger at her. "Either he goes with you, or you don't go at all."

Melonna stared at him glumly for a second, and then gave Frodo an apologetic glace. "All right. Come."

After they were outside, Merry sighed heavily and rested his head on the rocking-chair. His tongue began numbing up, and he felt like he was spinning—

"_Merry!_" Cool hands patted his face, and Merry shook his head, snapping back into consciousness.

"Please don't pass out." Gwyn told him, her dark eyes laced with worry.

"Hobbit…males…don't…" Merry's breathing turned shorter as he fought against unconsciousness.

"Tell me a story." Gwyn tore away the shawl and sponged his calf with the soapy cloth.

"St-story?" Merry felt nauseous.

"Yes! A story. Any story. Like…how you got that sword."

His senses grew alert. "_Sword?_" He whispered distantly.

"Yes." Gwyn replied quietly. "Just tell me, Merry, and don't even think about what I'm doing. Pretend I'm not here. Just talk, and keep talking."

Merry didn't want to tell her, but then he felt the black vortex of unconsciousness begin sucking him back in. So he took in a deep breath and started his story—starting at when he and Pippin had been pilfering Farmer Maggot's crop on that fateful day.

WHAM! _Merry _oofed_ when his body impacted with a stouter body and he fell down on top of—Samwise Gamgee._

"_Frodo." Pippin breathed. "Merry, it's Frodo Baggins." He announced in pleased surprise. Merry struggled to his feet. "Hello, Frodo," he greeted good-naturedly. _

_Annoyed, Sam trudged to his feet and yanked Pippin rather roughly off Frodo. "Get off him." He ordered. Pippin, as usual, wasn't sensitive to much scolding, as he was used to it, and he brushed off his jacket and scarf. Then he and Merry quickly swept up all the lettuce and carrots. Merry unceremoniously dumped some into Sam's arms. "You've been into Farmer Maggot's _crop_!" Sam exclaimed._

"_You get back here!" An angered voice rang out from the distance with the sound of vicious, barking dogs. They saw a wheat scythe waving up through the corn stalks. "Get out of my field!"_

_Jumping into action, Merry grabbed Frodo and shoved him through the corn stalks._

"_You'll know the devil if I catch up with you!" Farmer Maggot's disembodied voice bellowed._

"_I don't know why he's so upset," Pippin explained flippantly, "It's only a couple of carrots—and some cabbages—and those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week—and then the mushrooms the week before!"_

"_Yes, Pippin, my point is…" Merry panted, following Pippin and Frodo and hoping Sam was safely behind him, "…He's clearly overreacting!"_

_Looking over behind his shoulder for Farmer Maggot, Merry didn't notice that Pippin had suddenly halted. Merry looked to see he was standing perilously on the edge of a very steep hill. Merry skidded to a halt, barely pushing Pippin over—but then Frodo bumped into Merry—and then Sam, the chubbiest of the four hobbits, plowed into them and they tumbled down the hill. _

_They cried out, grunted, and exclaimed in pain as they crashed their way through the forest, and then mercy finally took notice of them and they fell on each other in one pile at the base of the long hill. They had fallen on grass before the road to Bree._

"_Oh, that was close," Pippin quipped. Merry wondered how easygoing he could be about just everything. And wasn't he even in _pain_? "I think I've broken something," Merry groaned, groping whatever was underneath him—and he pulled out a carrot with its half dangling away._

"_Trust a Brandybuck and a Took!" Sam grumbled as he spat out a piece of grass and got up to his knees. _

"_What?" Merry sat up next to him and straightened up his green jacket with an air of arrogance. "That was just a detour. A shortcut."_

"_Shortcut to _what_?" Sam sent him an irritated glance._

"Mushrooms!_" Pippin answered Sam's answer, looking up across the distance. Sam forgot his frustration and jumped up, slamming Pippin down on the way, with Merry following suit. The three gathered around the mushroom ring, not even noticing that Frodo was standing away, looking around with a sober mood._

"_That's mine…"_

"_That's nice, Merry…"_

"_Here's a nice one, Sam…"_

_They chattered while they inspected the types and shapes of the mushrooms._

"_I think we should get off the road," Frodo announcing, turning to his friends. But they barely heard him, nodding and getting ready to leave…very slowly._

"…_Get off the road!" Frodo's voice was now urgent. "Quick!"_

_Merry wasn't worried much, but he decided to do what Frodo said. They quickly gathered up their food and stepped off the bank of the road, filing into a large, empty space under the roots of a tree. Merry, Sam, and Pippin tugged around the bag of mushrooms while Frodo looked up, ever so alert. "Be quiet!" He hissed sharply just when the sound of heavy hoofbeats walked slowly over them. Instantly, Merry, Pippin, and Sam stopped, looking up. _What in the world is going on?

_Merry watched Frodo curiously—he seemed so very afraid. And then the next second, Merry was so very afraid when he saw a glimpse of a black hood peer over the roots of the tree. A palm-sized spider crawled down Merry's arm, and he tried not to visibly shudder._

_Then Frodo pulled something out of his brown jacket pocket…a gold ring. His eyes shut, and he seemed compelled to put on the ring. Merry heard the sharp hiss of the eerie being and the alert snort of its black steed._

_Sam abruptly reached over Pippin to hold Frodo's wrist. Instantly, Frodo's eyes opened and he withdrew the ring from view. Recognizing the need to distract that dark rider, Merry flung the bag of mushrooms down the bank of the road. It worked, and the black rider swooped upon his horse and they galloped away. Quickly, the frightened hobbits scrambled up and ran down the bank._

_Merry fell into a heap of relief, and Pippin fell along with him. Only Frodo stood in front of them, staring around in his distracted trance again. Merry panted, agitated. "What was that?" He demanded._

_Frodo did not answer. He only looked down at his palm._

_Merry then remembered the stories he'd heard as a hobbit lad—the myth of the One Ring._

_Only he now knew it was true._

_They ran through the forest, running with all of their might. Soon, it was twilight and the forest was now darkened. Merry and Frodo ran closely together, stopping at every tree and looking to and fro, senses alert for the black rider. _

"_Anything?" Merry called over the howling wind, observing the dark, clustered trees. The atmosphere gave him the chills._

"_Nothing," Frodo replied, standing behind a tree, trepidation in every stance and word of his._

"_What is going _on_?" Pippin cried, exhausted and doubling over._

_Merry walked down to Frodo. "That black rider was looking for something…" he spoke carefully, "…Or someone." He leaned sideways to look at Frodo's worried face. He looked at Merry, meeting his commanding gaze. "Frodo?" Merry prodded._

"_Get down!" Sam shouted from behind them, and they crouched down low. At a mouth of the forest, they saw the black rider upon his beast, peering around, stalking the hobbits' footsteps. To their relief, the black rider turned the opposite way and headed away from the forest, towards the moonlight._

_After a moment of silent fear, Frodo said, "I have to leave the Shire."_

_Merry glanced at him sharply._

"_Sam and I must get to Bree." He informed somberly._

"_Right." Merry nodded, the wheels in his head turning. Then a light popped in his head. "…Bucklebury Ferry. Follow me." He ordered and took off with his comrades following at his heels._

_But out of a clearing leaped a horse with its black rider. The hobbits shouted in dismay and fear, scurrying around like mice. The equally terrified horse stumbled and reared back, surrounded by the four hobbits._

Merry gave out a yelp of pain. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at his leg. Gwyn sent him an apologetic glance before pulling out thread by two stitches. "I'm sorry. I got distracted by your story and missed my mark. I need to start over a bit."

"M-maybe I should stop," Merry muttered warily. "I wouldn't want you to be more hazardous than you already are."

For the first time, Gwyn smiled—even only briefly—at his latest joke. "Very funny." She quipped shortly. "But please—tell me more. I promise I'll be more careful—I'm usually good at multitasking."

"All right," Merry agreed reluctantly. "Wait—how many stitches am I getting?"

"Twenty." Gwyn raised her eyebrows. "I'm on the seventh."

Merry shuddered. He started continuing his story before he felt like falling unconscious again. He did not question why Gwyn was actually bold enough to ask him to proceed.

"Run!_" Merry yelled. "This way! Follow me!" He and the others dodged the black rider and scurried in the direction of a nearby fence._

_Sam, Pippin, and Merry jumped over the fence and drove forward to the raft—the Bucklebury Ferry raft. Pippin arrived there first and rapidly untied the rope from its post._

"_FRODO!" Sam hollered. Frodo ran down the path, his expression alight with horror._

"_Run, Frodo!" Sam shouted. _

"_GO!" Frodo called._

"Hurry!_" Merry ordered, fear seizing his very being, but he would not give into it._

_The black rider galloped up behind Frodo. He glanced back for only an instant._

"_Frodo, come on!" Sam urged. "Come on! Faster!" Pippin screamed._

"_JUMP!" Sam shouted. And Frodo jumped on the raft which had floated away. He knocked Sam down, but they were safe. Merry rowed away in furious strokes._

_The black rider halted suddenly, turned around, and galloped away…only to be accompanied by several other black riders. The hobbits observed this in horror._

"_How far to the nearest crossing?" Frodo asked breathlessly._

"_The Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles." Merry informed, rowing. He stared after the black riders, wondering where they came from and who were they._

_Half an hour later, they arrived at the tall gates of Bree. It was a village of men, people Merry liked to jokingly call "oversized hobbits"._

"_Come on," Frodo said after ensuring no one was in sight. They came out of the clearing and headed over to the gate. It was raining in torrents, and not even their capes and hoods helped much._

_Frodo knocked at the gate loudly. A small, square window above them opened, and then closed. Then a window that was up to their heights opened, and a grizzled man with bushy, owl-like eyebrows peered at them. "What do you want?" He barked. Merry wasn't sure if he meant to be terse._

"_We're heading for the Prancing Pony," Frodo told him._

_The large door opened. The tall, hooded man stared down at them."Hobbits!" He muttered in surprise. "_Four_ hobbits! What's more—out of the Shire by your talk! What business brings you to Bree?" He demanded._

"_We wish to stay at the inn," Frodo replied, "Our business is our own."_

_After a moment, the nosy man nodded. "All right, young sir. I meant no offense. It's my job to ask questions after nightfall." He stepped aside to let the hobbits in. "There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful." He muttered. Merry wondered if he was talking to himself or warning them._

_They filed their way through crowds of men, creepy, lazy, and just plain hasty. No one stopped to talk to them and they were constantly pushed aside and spoken to roughly. Merry decided that men must be a very rude and unpleasant folk._

_They finally reached the inn and Frodo asked for Gandalf the Grey. Merry shook the droplets of water from his hair, as did Pippin and Sam. They were disappointed to find out that Gandalf wasn't here._

_Half an hour later, the hobbits were sitting at a table with some bread, soup, and drink they ordered, waiting in complete silence—except for Pippin's occasional questions and Sam's worried sighing. Merry left the table to order a pint, which was an alcoholic concoction poured in a pint-sized mug._

"_What's that?" Pippin gasped, his eyes growing wide as saucers. Merry licked his lips, staring down at his drink with lust. "This, my friend, is a pint," he informed gleefully before taking a large gulp._

"_It comes in pints?" Pippin whispered excitedly, "I'm getting one!" He rose up and left quickly._

"_You got a whole half already!" Sam called out like a scolding father after his own son, but Pippin naturally ignored him._

_Merry drank his pint contentedly. He did not notice how Frodo's expression turned distant once again and his eyes were closed. He was slowly turning the ring over and over in his fingers._

_Suddenly, Frodo's eyes opened just as Pippin said his last name from across the inn. Frodo frantically ran through the crowd to get to him. Merry wondered what the matter was._

_Merry and Sam looked on with concern. Frodo grabbed Pippin's sleeve, but he slipped and fell. Merry saw a shining object fall up in the air, and it fell directly on Frodo's finger._

_And he was gone. He disappeared into thin air. Merry forgot all about his pint, staring at the scene with shock. Where had Frodo gone? The onlookers chattered in wonder and awe._

_Not two minutes later, Frodo reappeared. He was panting heavily, a fear bidden in his eyes. And then a man in a dark cape grabbed him and dragged him upstairs._

"_Frodo!" Sam shouted. He gathered Merry and Pippin and they raced upstairs. Pippin had taken the stool he'd sat on and Merry held a chandelier. Sam readied his fists if he ever needed to pummel the mysterious abductor's face in._

"_Let him go!" Sam shouted, bursting into the room. "Or I'll have you, longshanks." He balled his fists and glowered at the man threateningly._

_The man withdrew his sword and pushed it back in his hilt. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit," he said calmly, "But that will not save you." _

_Turning to Frodo, he continued, "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo…they're coming."_

_Merry knew what he meant by that. The black riders. The man, who the innkeeper called "Strider", explained to them that the black riders were __Nazgûl__, or Ringwraiths. They were once men who fell into darkness because of their greed of power which Sauron seduced them into. They were neither living nor dead, and their main priority was to find the Ring—and kill the one who carried it._

_The next morning, they set foot on a journey led by Strider. Merry did not trust Strider (and he had a feeling Strider knew of this), but Frodo said they had no choice but to trust him. They found out they were headed for Rivendell—the city of elves. Sam perked up at the very idea._

_A day later, after wandering through a smelly, dirty, and bug-infested marsh, they arrived at __Amon Sûl, or Weathertop. It was a deserted stone watchtower in the middle of a great, lonely plain. They would rest there for the night._

"…And that's how I got my first sword. Mind you, the sword I have now is actually my third." Merry finished. "Strider gave us swords, just in case we had to defend ourselves from any danger."

Gwyn looked so intently at his wound, finishing up the stitches. Merry wondered if she'd been listening at all. This was confirmed when she looked up at him. "What happened next?"

Merry didn't answer. He didn't _wan_t to. What happened next was a horrifying part in his story. Even more for Frodo, he surmised. "Uh…" he tried to think of a way to distract Gwyn. Resigning to _partial_ honesty, he said, "Um…I'd rather finish for tonight, okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Gwyn nodded. Her dark eyes glowed with curiosity, but her naturally unquestioning personality kept her silent.

"Thank you." Merry smiled and wiggled his foot. He reached forward and gingerly fingered his long scar. "I can't believe that I've been in so many battles before, and yet this time I barely could stand a puny little cut like this." He muttered half to himself.

"I thought you handled it pretty well." Gwyn responded. She leaned forward with twinkling eyes. "Griffin faints after every stitch he gets. …Tell him I told you that, and I'll kick you and unstitch that wound."

"Ooh, I'm scared," Merry laughed in a mock-quavering tone. "Say…why did you ask to hear a story…I mean…I feel a lot better now, so…"

Gwyn shifted slightly. "Oh. Well, you see, talking requires some consciousness. When you talked, you became so focused on telling me your story that you forgot what was happening. You forgot I was here…I think at the part when you were introducing the black rider you started to sound as if you were talking to yourself. And during that part, your color returned and you seemed stronger."

Merry licked his dry lips. "Well, that's certainly impressive of you. How long has it been? I think I told you a lot of my story."

"It's been about half an hour," Gwyn explained, "Cec usually would take a shorter time on stitching you up, but because I'm not as experienced and professional as he, I was slower with you. And I promised to be gentle."

Merry smirked. "A child, am I?"

"I was afraid you'd pass out," Gwyn snipped, but amusement danced in her eyes.

Merry chuckled, and then a thought crossed his mind. "Melonna," he gasped, starting to rise. Gwyn pushed him back firmly. "No, it's fine. If something went wrong, Frodo would definitely come in to tell you, don't you think?"

"Mm-hmm, that's right…" Merry calmed down and sat back. He was wondering, though, about what Gwyn thought of his story.

Gwyn seemed to read his mind. "Merry…you know, I used to think what Sigismond told me—about you and Pippin and Frodo and Sam leaving the Shire—was just a rumor…now…well," she chuckled slightly. "I find it hard to believe. I mean—I believe it, yes, but—you know—"

"I know what you mean," Merry nodded. "Really, it still feels like it was just all a bad dream…"

Gwyn gulped. "Are…are the Nazgûl still out there?"

"I doubt it," Merry noted the wariness in her eyes and reached out to press his hand over hers. "I don't know if all of them died off, but I know all of Middle-earth is safe from them."

Gwyn gazed at Merry with trust in her eyes. Then she sensed her hand under Merry's own, and looked down at it. Blushing, she pulled it away. Merry drew back.

"Um…I'll go clean up your room…make sure every trace of glass is off your floor." Gwyn muttered half to herself.

"You don't have to—" Merry told her, but she interrupted. "No, I don't mind." She rose carefully and set Merry's leg on the footrest. "Sit there…read…drink your tea. I'll let you know when I'm finished." She nodded curtly and gave him a tight smile. Merry wondered what was with her changed mood—just a few moments ago she'd been gentle and attentive.

Gwyn left the dining room quickly. Merry shook his head and sank down in his seat, sipping his tea. He felt so tired…it'd been a trying night.

Moments later, half-consciously, he set the tea down on the floor, and he drifted into sleep. He dreamed of Frodo and the Nazgûl, and he dreamed of Éowyn.

* * *

_**(Thirty minutes earlier…)**_

After Melonna dabbed Griffin's face and arm with liniment, Griffin had anxiously tore away from the steps and started pacing across the steps like a mad hobbit.

"Restless, is he?" Frodo asked, half to himself, in a low tone.

"Only when he's worried," Melonna replied.

Frodo scooted closer to Melonna. He was sure Griffin was "safe", but the way he acted made him suspicious and he wanted to make sure he would do no ill deed towards Melonna. He didn't know why, but he had a strong feeling about protecting her.

Griffin growled like a wild animal. "Griffin, calm down," Melonna chided calmly.

"_Calm down?_" Griffin snarled and waved his arms. "In _there_ is my _sister_, whom I haven't seen in _three years_! She gives me a cold welcome, and she is sitting pretty at the feet of a _stranger_!"

"_Merry _is hardly a _stranger_," Melonna's voice rose, as did her posture. "He's my cousin and also a distant relative of Frodo's from the other side of his family! Merry is completely _trustworthy_."

Griffin finally stopped pacing, much to Frodo's relief. All his agitated footsteps had been making him dizzy. Griffin glowered at Melonna with a glum expression.

"Griffin…please," Melonna pleaded. "Be reasonable. You did wrong against Merry, so Gwyn is entitled to be upset with you."

"All I did was break his window." Griffin rolled his eyes.

"And cut his leg," Frodo interjected bluntly. Griffin shot him a murderous glare.

"What's the matter with you, Griffin?" Melonna shook her head, glaring at him with disappointment.

Griffin's stare darted from Melonna to Frodo and then back to Melonna. "Listen," he stalked forward until his tall body was almost touching Melonna's. She had to crane back her neck to make eye contact.

"Melonna, I'm in danger," he whispered. "And when I was in Hobbiton today, I saw Sigismond Noakes…he was surprised to see me…and he told me Gwyn was staying here. He also said Gwyn was in danger."

Melonna's mouth parted and her eyes widened. "Well," she spouted indignantly, "You know full well that you shouldn't trust Sigi's word. He _lied_, Griffin. Gwyn is perfectly safe here."

"Well, I can't be too sure, can I, Melonna?" Griffin spoke sharply, stepping away from her.

"You could have knocked," Frodo commented. "Asked about Gwynra."

"What if Brandybuck lied to me as well?" Griffin retorted scornfully. Frodo suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. This lad was even more paranoid than he was and Gwyn next to Griffin made her appear perfectly normal. He bit his lip from snorting in the irony of it all.

"Still," Melonna lifted her hands, clearly gathering up self-control, "You were wrong, and I fully expect you to go apologize to Merry about this."

Griffin smiled darkly. "Not if I just leave."

Melonna visibly paled. "You _wouldn't_," she whispered.

"I _am_," Griffin replied with an eerie calm. He kicked at the ground, turned his heel, and walked down the steps.

"Griffin!" Melonna protested.

Swiftly, Griffin whirled around and raised a warning finger. "But—Melonna, I'm warning you…if Brandybuck tries anything funny with my sister…then I'll come here and make him wish he'd never been born. Understand?"

"Griffin—" Melonna growled.

"And, as for you, Baggins," Griffin's glare averted to Frodo. "You try anything funny with her _or Melonna_, and I'll make sure you lose the rest of your nine fingers. Are we clear?"

That did it. Frodo rose to his feet, about to tear into Griffin. But Melonna's steadying hand on his arm and held him back. "Leave it, Frodo. He's not worth it." She whispered, sending Griffin a sad gaze.

Griffin looked at Melonna grimly for one last time, and then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

Sighing, Frodo sat back down heavily. "He's not trusting at all, is he?"

"I know no Whitfoot who is," Melonna replied in disgust and sadness.

"What happened?" Frodo asked without thinking. Melonna inhaled sharply and sent him a pleading glance.

"Frodo…if you don't want me to ask you about your Quest…then don't ask me about the Whitfoots." She had a pointed look in her eyes, and Frodo got the message.

"Of course. I am sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine."

Then Frodo remembered why he had come. "Melonna…" he began, a bit nervously.

"Yes?" Melonna glanced at him with raised eyebrows in curiosity.

"I came here…you see, I was just almost up to the gate when I heard the attack…anyway….I came here to apologize to you, Melonna, for my harshness with you last month."

Melonna blinked. "Oh…oh, that. I'd…quite forgotten about that in the past few weeks…"

"Well, I could've apologized earlier," Frodo went on, "But I got caught up in my writing, helping Sam and Rosie with their wedding, and I was ill last weekend."

"Oh, I'm sorry; are you all right now?" Melonna inquired anxiously. Frodo smiled at how caring she was.

"Yes. Of course. Don't worry about me, Melonna. Just…please…forgive me."

"I forgive you—I forgave you weeks ago," Melonna smiled happily, but then her expression turned tentative. "But do _you_—forgive me?"

"Yes." Frodo smiled back.

"Thank you." Melonna grinned.

"No, thank _you_." Frodo shook his head.

They sat in companionable silence. Frodo felt his back muscles tense, so he fidgeted to relax his muscles. But the skin across his chest tightened, and his scar from the Nazgûl blade stung. He winced in pain.

"Frodo?" Melonna noticed his grimace. "Are you all right?"

"Yes…quite." Frodo replied in a barely audible tone, resisting the pain.

Then a hand slipped into his, where it was resting on his knee. Frodo looked down at Melonna's small, smooth hand interlocked with his four-fingered hand.

He did not return the gentle squeeze, but neither did he pull away. He just let her hand stay in his.

Some minutes later, Melonna was drifting off to sleep. Finally, her head fell softly on Frodo's shoulder.

Shivering from the frigid night air, Frodo decided it was time to deliver Melonna inside from the cold.

Carefully, he wound one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs, and he lifted her up. He quickly opened the door and stepped in. He pushed it close with his foot and then walked down the hall quietly, holding Melonna in his arms like a child. He put Melonna in her own feather bed in her own bedroom, and he pulled the covers over her. Then he left the room, closing the door behind him.

He felt so tired as well. He went to check on Merry—he was sleeping peacefully in his rocking-chair. Frodo took a quilt from a cabinet on the floor behind the dining room table and put it over his cousin. Merry mumbled and stirred in his sleep, making Frodo smile and feel as if he was a father looking over his own son.

Frodo went into Merry's bedroom. The oil lamp had gone out, and he saw Gwyn sleeping on Merry's bed. A broom stood by with its pail of glass. A thick blanket was covering the shattered window tightly to keep the cold out.

Frodo glanced down at Gwyn again. She had obviously fallen asleep on accident, since she was lying across the wrong side of bed, and she was still clad in her day dress. Frodo decided to leave her in peace.

He certainly didn't want to walk back to Bag End in the cold dark. Frodo knew Merry wouldn't mind if he borrowed the guest room for the night, and the guest room was where he headed off to. Within ten minutes, he was asleep.

But in the morning, Gwyn was gone.

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_**A/N: I can't believe it! :O Chapter 12 already? Oh, well—YAY! ;D Please review! :)**_

_**- Heidi**_

_**P.S. It is CRUCIAL that you vote on my poll on my profile. :/ Six votes are not enough for me to judge and make a decision. I know I have more than six people who have alerted and favorited…so to the rest of you who haven't voted—please contribute to the cause, or Frodo's fate will not please you. :P**_


	13. Bringing Gwyn Back

_**Chapter Thirteen: Bringing Gwyn Back**_

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_**A/N: Drama, drama, DRAMA! :P I love writing it, but I know it's bad to do too much, and I like to give my readers a break. ;) Next chapter should be fluffy—er, most of it, I promise. :)**_

_**This chapter…er…I'm warning you, it'll make you want to yank out your hair again… :P LOL.**_

_**I am posting this chapter in honor of my 18**__**th**__** birthday. :) Heehee, I'm so self-centered. XD So, this is my birthday gift…to YOU all! ;) :) Thank you all, my wonderful reviewers. :D**_

_**estie793 – Bahahaha! Your review made me laugh. :D Honestly, if I recall correctly, I might've been giggling a bit when I wrote Griffin's parts. I do remember the dark, twisted part of my brain cackling maniacally, "Muahahahahaha! Psycho hobbit with pitchfork!" (If you knew me in real life, you'd believe I was crazy. ;) And originally, I had planned to make a DIFFERENT hobbit (not Sigi, sorry :P) do the attack, but it somehow turned out to be Griffin. :P Right now I don't like him, but I know he'll improve, since that's my plan. :) Let me know how your brother's friend Griffin reacts when you call him "Griffo", haha. XD And don't feel bad about skimming over most of the flashback parts; I'd kind of assumed some of my readers would do that, lol. XD (I would… *blushes*) Just as long as you noticed that Merry and Gwyn spoke a bit in the middle, it's all right. :)**_

_**mecherry – YAY! Thanks for reviewing! :D You never review… :P But I usually assume it's because you already review in your editor's notes in the chapters you beta for me, so it's fine. ;D Thank you for all your help and compliments! :D**_

_**DancingRaindrops – It's okay that you don't like the Whitfoot family very much, lol. ;) I actually mean for the reader to dislike Griffin. :P And Gwyn's mother. But Cec and the father should be likable, I hope. :) So glad you forgive Frodo now, lol. ;D Enjoy this chapter! :D More mystery and revelations. ;)**_

_**Jen Lewis – Muahahaha, yes, a cliffhanger. :D I love cliffhangers. XD Except when I'm reading one. :P Ain't that odd? XD Thank you for your input! :D**_

_**sneakykid – YAY, new reviewer! :D Thank you very much for your feedback; it helps! Aaw, I love Frodo. XD Please keep reviewing! :)**_

_**I got more new votes on my poll finally! :D Thank you to all those who voted – you know who you are. :) Now, I have drawn the votes and made the decision. Here it is…YOU'LL FIND OUT AT THE END! :D YAAAAAY! :P**_

_**Now…I have a new poll up. *Hides from annoyed readers.* LOL. However, take as long as you like on that one. :) It's not time-limited as the other one. :)**_

_**Oh, yes, and I'd like to thank all the reviewers of my latest LOTR one-shots: **__**Side By Side As Brothers**__** and **__**The Last Mighty Child of Ungoliant**__**. Your reviews made my day! :) Keep up the wonderful favors. :)**_

_**WARNING: This chapter contains a brief mildly suggestive dialogue and an alcohol reference. Please understand that I am very much against alcohol and such suggestive talk, so I am not promoting those themes as positive, but very negative. Please heed this warning but do not be offended. Thank you.**_

_**Disclaimer: Humph. No way am I going to admit that J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema rightfully own The Lord of the Rings, not after whoever pulled that prank on me. … Oh, darn, I admitted it anyway, didn't I? D:**_

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"_Frodo! _Frodo, wake up!"

Frodo felt himself being shaken awake, and for a split second he wondered if he was back with Captain Faramir and his ranger men who had pushed him and Sam roughly around.

But when Frodo opened his eyes he saw his cousin Merry standing over him, clad with a frantic expression. "Frodo, Gwyn's gone," he announced.

"Wh-what?" Frodo muttered and rubbed his eyes, yawning. "_Gwyn?_"

"Yes!" Merry nodded. "You're in her guest room…Gwyn's not in my room, Melonna's room, or anywhere else in the house! I looked!"

Beside Merry was Melonna. She seemed just as worried. "Please get up, Mister Frodo. Help us look for her!"

Nodding, Frodo pushed himself up on his elbows and kicked off the sheets. "All right—did you look outside?"

"Posie's gone as well," Merry said grimly.

Frodo's eyebrows shot up. "Gwyn stole your pony?"

Merry shrugged. "I certainly hope not! Look, I'm going to Newbury; I suspect she may have gone there. You and Melonna—go downtown and hire a glassmaker to get me a new window for my bedroom."

"You're going after her?" Frodo didn't mean to sound as if he was against the idea; he still felt half-asleep.

"Yes, Frodo, I am going after her." Indignation and determination was evident in his cousin's tone.

Rubbing his eyes, Frodo yawned and got out of bed. "All right, all right, just let me get ready…"

"You're still in yesterday's clothes, as are Merry and I," Melonna pointed out.

"I can't go into Hobbiton looking like this," Frodo replied.

"You care about how you look?" Merry's nose wrinkled, but Melonna seemed pleased. "Good; I'll get dressed and you can borrow Merry's clothes."

"Ugh, females," Merry shook his head.

"I heard that!" Melonna yelled from the hallway.

Frodo shrugged. "I know it may sound odd to _you_, but I do not want to look bedraggled and wrinkled like right now—"

"Yeah, yeah," Merry waved him off, "Sure. I got to go."

Merry, the typical male hobbit.

Frodo followed after Merry, who was limping down the hallway to the front door. "Merry, be careful," Frodo warned.

Merry sent him a questioning look as he pulled on his brown jacket. "You mean because of my leg?"

Frodo shrugged weakly. "No—I mean, yes, but more because…I…I just don't quite trust Gwyn…just be careful, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

Merry's expression was unreadable. "Mm…" he replied softly, "I'll take that in consideration, but for me, Frodo…I think I can trust her." With that, he nodded in farewell and left the hobbit-hole.

Frodo sighed and turned to face Merry's bedroom. The shattered window was uncovered and the bed unmade.

_Why did Gwyn run away?_ Frodo wondered as he returned to the guest room. He saw Melonna already had a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a jacket laying in wait for him. As Frodo changed his clothes, he pondered over Gwyn once more.

Maybe she left in search of her brother. Frodo had no idea about Griffin, and he knew very little about Gwyn. But by the looks of last night's ordeal, Frodo could tell that the Whitfoot twins' relationship was under great stress and strain. Frodo also suspected that Griffin may have been separated from Gwyn for a long period of time, given the surprises on Gwyn and Melonna's faces when he came along.

What was up with the two, anyway? Why was Griffin so harsh, hostile, and yet passionately protective towards his sister? Why was Gwyn so angry with him? (Other than the reason for him breaking into Merry's house. Frodo also perceived that Griffin must be not a very good strategist!)

Frodo and Melonna met in the hallway and headed out. Since Merry already had taken Sage and the wagon, they would go to get Frodo's ponies, Strider and Arwen.

To their surprise, they found Posie waiting by the gate of Merry's property. Melonna gasped and walked forward, reaching up to touch the pony's mane. "How did you get here?" She asked. The pony nickered quietly and shook her neck.

"Gwyn sent you back here, huh?" Melonna concluded. She smiled. "She did good, then, returning you to us. Hopefully Merry won't jump to conclusions and tear into Gwyn before he finds out about this," she chuckled.

Frodo came up behind the blonde hobbit lass. "Why don't you take her to the stable and then meet me with my ponies at my stable," he suggested.

"Okay," Melonna nodded, taking Posie by the reins and leading her away.

Frodo hoped they would not run into any trouble when they went into downtown.

* * *

Cecilius Whitfoot and his sister stared at each other in shocked, awkward silence.

Or, rather, Cec was staring at Gwyn, but Gwyn's eyes were downcast to the hardwood floor.

Nearly half an hour ago, Cec had come into his clinic to be met by Swan, who informed him that Gwyn had been sitting in his office for the last hour and an half. Shocked and concerned, Cec had rushed down there to see Gwyn. They had gawked at each other for long moment. Then a deeply frustrated Cec had muttered to her to keep silent while he checked over his patient files, and then they would talk.

And by _talk_, Cec meant he would _scold_ her, and Gwyn evidently understood that. She'd cringed and sunk lower in her chair.

Cec shoved the papers in his drawer, closed it, leaned across his desk, and folded hands.

"All right…now explain yourself, Gwynra Whitfoot, and why you disobeyed Mother's orders that you not come until _she_ has summoned you."

Gwyn's intake of breath was sharp. "I…I don't care what Mother says," she responded with a stubborn yet conflicted frown.

Shaking his head, Cec went on, "Look, the village has only recently stopped bothering us about you in the past four weeks. You can't just turn up and stir up things again. They still think you killed old Everard Bunce. No one knows how, but they found him alone in the woods, with a poisoned arrow in his neck. That happened the very night after the morning you left for Hobbiton. Before that, folk was sure he was dead since he'd been missing for more than two weeks. And in that span of time, you have been mysteriously coming and going, and others from Hobbiton have asked after you, which all come to the suspicion that you have something to do with Everard Bunce's death."

Gwyn was visibly shaken. "Why…why would Mister Everard be murdered? He did no wrong against the village."

"I know," Cec nodded, "But given our past…yours…Mayor Jumpswell just has this prejudiced notion that you initiated this."

Gwyn's eyes welled up with tears. "I couldn't possibly have been that bad back then…I truly didn't know I was so, _so_…"

"You weren't," Cec assured her, "But because of Ada and Ilberic's deaths and Sigismond's accusations, the villagers are misled and blinded by their grief and grudge against you and Griffin." Cec saw Gwyn was bothered by the sound of Ada's name.

"Gwyn, Mira came to me a few weeks ago and said that you should stand up for yourself. I think she's right. You need to stop running and start taking a stand and let Newbury know that they have been deceived by Mayor Jumpswell and that no-good Noakes lad—"

"I-I don't want to hear this," Gwyn shook her head, stiffening in her chair. She bit her lip hard to keep from breaking into tears. "Look…" she quavered, "I don't want to, okay? They're not going to believe me. They are partly right to be angry with me. After all, Ada died because I—" Gwyn's breathing shortened and tears finally rolled down her pale face. Cec left his chair and hastened to her side. Kneeling by her side, he wrapped his broad arms around her and held her close.

"Can't I just leave?" Gwyn's voice was nothing but a piteous whine. "Can't I just stay out of sight? I don't wanna face anyone…" she sobbed and buried her face into Cec's chest.

"I know, Gwynnie. I know." Cec nodded and stroked her hair.

"I want Papa," Gwyn whimpered.

"Father misses you as well. He asks about you every day. Mother and I didn't want to worry him in his condition, so we only said you were visiting a friend in Hobbiton."

Gwyn's sobs subsided and she pulled away. Once again, she pulled up her guard and hard walls, wiping the tears from her face and clearing her throat. It wasn't like Gwyn to look for comfort from someone. Usually she found it more comforting to be in solace when in a miserly mood.

"How's—how's he? Papa?" Gwyn sniffed deeply before inquiring.

"He has not worsened," Cec replied seriously, "And I suppose that is better than nothing."

Gwyn studied Cec through red-rimmed eyes. Cec pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her, which she readily took and blew her nose into it.

"Listen, Gwyn, why don't you tell me who you're staying with and I can have Swan send him a message of where you are, so he can come bring you back to Hobbiton so you'll be safe once again," Cec coaxed, but she interrupted him.

"Merry will come after me. He always does, considering how he is with his friends. When he sees that I've left without notifying him, he'll come and get me. But I plan to evade him as much as possible, because, Cec, there's—"

"Merry _who_?" Cec furrowed his brow in thought. That name was very familiar.

Gwyn did not answer. She blushed and looked away.

"_Who?_" Cec asked in a firmer tone.

"…M-Meriadoc Brandybuck," she mumbled so unintelligibly that Cec had to lean closer to hear her better.

"Meriadoc…" Cec repeated in gritted teeth. Emitting a growl, he slammed a hand on his desk, inflicting a jump from Gwyn. Cec rarely ever lost his temper, and whenever he did, he was never violent.

"Gwyn, do you know who you've tangled with?" He cried. "Brandybuck came here with a friend of his and Melonna Goldworthy a few weeks ago—asking about you, and Swan heard the entire conversation, which led to—"

"I know," Gwyn announcing, halting his agitated speech. She nodded solemnly. "He told me himself."

Mouth agape, Cec blinked, hardly believing his own ears. "…And you went to stay at his home anyway?" He replied in an awed voice. Gwyn _trusted_ Meriadoc?

"Yes," Gwyn nodded in finality. "Melonna, his cousin, lives with him as well."

Cec nodded slightly, keeping silent. He turned away to search for medical supplies for a patient scheduled to come in an hour.

"…I _trust_ him, Cec." Gwyn commented quietly.

Cec's hands stilled for a moment. He heard a distinct…_special_ kind of softness in her voice. He resumed opening drawers and cabinets. "So I see," he answered casually. Then in a reproaching tone, he turned to her and asked, "Does he treat you well? Has he ever laid a harmful hand on you?"

"He has never hurt my feelings intentionally," Gwyn replied with no trace of deceit in her onyx eyes.

"…And he has been very kind to me, and the only time he ever bothers me is when he teases me, and even then, he is good to me." A smile hinted at the corners of her lips.

Cec nodded approvingly, even though he felt a little alarm at his sister's attitude towards Meriadoc. Not that it was bad, but it was…risky. What if Gwyn ended up falling in love with Meriadoc, and he hurt her just like Sigi did? Cec swore that Meriadoc would regret the day he was born if he ever did hurt her like that.

Cec only hoped that Gwyn's feelings wouldn't grow any further, that they would fade away, and that the feeling wasn't mutual.

Cec decided to ask the question that had been burning in his head since Gwyn came. "Why are you here anyway, little sister?"

Gwyn's eyes lit up, and her countenance tensed. "Because, Cec, I have to tell you something very, very important. I could not just brush this aside and stay in Hobbiton as if nothing happened."

"What is it?" Cec hated being in suspense.

"Cec…" Gwyn took in a deep breath, "Griffin is alive."

The very words took a moment to register. And when they finally hit him, Cec felt the air _whoosh_ from him and he had to drop into his chair, otherwise he'd hurt himself falling to the floor.

"_Griffin?_" He repeated weakly. He felt hot and cold at the same time. He wanted to scream with joy but also anger.

"Yes," Gwyn nodded. "He came to Merry's house last night. Actually, he attacked, more precisely. I don't know when, but he left afterwards and I fell asleep; everyone did. It was a very trying night—"

"Whoa, whoa, back up a little, will you?" Cec held up a hand. "Explain from the very beginning."

Gwyn cleared her throat before starting, "Okay. Merry and I were talking in his bedroom—"

"_Bedroom?_" Cec glared.

"It wasn't like _that_," Gwyn bristled indignantly. "I'm not that kind of hobbit, and neither is Merry. Anyway, Griffin broke his bedroom window and jumped in, trying to attack Merry. Merry was armed, and they fought a little until Melonna, Frodo Baggins, and I stopped him. Griffin cut Merry's leg but Merry got the upper hand. Frodo ended it between them, and Melonna and I took Merry to the dining room to tend to his wound. Griffin explained that he attacked Merry to 'protect' me." Gwyn's tone turned scornful. Cec bit his tongue, trying not to rile her up by telling her that her grudge against her brother was wrong.

"He was wrong to attack, I told him so, and not to mention irrational." Gwyn laughed mirthlessly. "There's something wrong with Griffin, Cec," she mused. "He's…darker…angrier. And reckless, so very reckless."

"He's always been reckless," Cec agreed ruefully.

"Yes. Melonna and Frodo accompanied him outside, while I stayed inside and stitched up Merry's cut. It was five inches long, curved around his calf, and rather deep, but I don't think it hit a major artery. I gave it twenty stitches, given how deep it was."

Cec nodded, using his physician's mind to analyze Gwyn's report. "Mm-hmm, I think that's proper," he replied, "How was he?"

"Fine. He handled it well…better than how Griffin would…" unbidden, a fit of snickers escaped from Gwyn and Cec.

"Anyway," Gwyn coughed and continued, "After Merry and I chatted for a bit, I went to clean up the glass off his bedroom floor, and the next thing I know, I was sitting on his bed to rest for a moment…and I fell asleep. I woke up just before daybreak, and I looked for Griffin, but he wasn't there. Then I decided to come here to tell you of this, and to let you know that I plan to go somewhere else."

Cec listened intently. "And…Griffin…how did he look?"

Gwyn's expression turned concerned. "Thin…very thin. He looks malnourished, but strength still lies in him. He was recently hurt, because bruises and cuts were on his face and arms. I don't know how he got them, but they were inflicted before he fought Merry."

"Did Meriadoc fight back?" Cec queried curiously.

"No," Gwyn's brow shot up as she thought more. "He was poised to, but I think he did so just to intimidate Griffin into backing down. But Merry had no intentions of harming Griffin, no. That is, until Griffin provoked him about his wounds making him feel lightheaded," Gwyn snorted.

Cec smirked grimly. His younger brother always had been the troublemaker of the family, the black sheep. He was not surprised that Griffin would pull something like that.

"And…what happened next?" Cec prodded.

Gwyn shrugged, "Nothing, really. The last time I saw Griffin was when he left outside with Melonna and Frodo while I stayed to help Merry. I thought he would stay and wait to talk to me more, but he did not."

Cec stroked his chin thoughtfully. Why would Griffin stage an attack like that and then just disappear again? It was just like last time…

As if Gwyn read his mind, she went on, "I wonder why he did that. After three years…you'd think he'd want to stick around to be with me…"

"Did you want him to be with you?" Cec asked.

Gwyn averted her gaze from the floor to him. "Well…" she was obviously conflicted. "I did truly miss Griffin, yes, but…really…I can't just look at Griffin and not think about that day…"

"I understand," Cec replied, "But you realize that…you can't…hold a grudge against your brother over that day. You know he left because that how he copes with grief. When Ada died, all of us coped in our different ways. Mother became hard and distant. You became paranoid and distrusting. I delve into my work deeply and obsess over it. Griffin left home without a word. And Father…he drank even more…and, Gwyn, I think that is why he is so sick. I fear there is something in alcohol that damages our internal organs if we give into drink excessively."

Gwyn's eyes were wide with fear and rimming with tears again. "What is it? This…illness?"

"I don't know," Cec shook his head sadly. "But I think it has something to do with alcohol. It's a good thing that most of us hobbits of the Shire have common sense of the difference between drinking alcohol and drunkenness, which the latter Father committed, and because of that, his body is paying the price. An unknown evil lies in alcohol and it has affected him, hence his decaying condition."

"I—I have to see him again," Gwyn quavered, her voice rising. "He needs me—"

"No, Gwyn…" Cec shook his head and walked over to her side, begging inwardly for her not to cry again. "…No. You can't see him, not yet. It's risky for you to go out there and—"

"Cec, please," Gwyn pleaded.

"Gwyn—" Cec answered reproachfully, but then a knock sounded at the door.

"Cec? It's Swan." A quiet voice came from behind it.

"Come in," Cec answered mildly.

Swan peeked into the room. Her white-blond hair was rolled up into a bun atop her head. "Um," she squeaked, "You have a visitor…for Miss Gwyn."

"Merry," Gwyn paled. "He got here sooner than I thought…"

"Let him in," Cec permitted. Swan nodded and opened the door wider, revealing Meriadoc Brandybuck standing behind her. "Go on in, Master Brandybuck," Swan informed him. "I'll leave you three alone now."

"Thank you," Meriadoc tipped his head at her politely and limped into the office. Swan glanced at Cec with a curious expression, but then just walked away silently. Cec decided he'd explain things to Swan later—but of course he would warn her to say nothing to others about it. He subtly studied Meriadoc's leg. He saw stitches around the calf, but there was no bandage. _There should be a bandage._

Gwyn stared at Meriadoc with a guarded expression. But Meriadoc only grinned at her cheekily. "I just knew you'd be here, Gwyn. Next time you want to run away from me, well, go…I don't know…just go lose yourself somewhere near Girdley Island." He winked, and that brought out the fire in Gwyn.

"Really, Merry!" She snapped. "Must you tease me after our every encounter? Don't you take anything seriously? _–Ever?_"

Meriadoc shrugged and rocked on his heels for a moment. "Well, I don't know," he replied nonchalantly, "But I do take the fact that my pony Posie is missing _seriously_…" he sent Gwyn a questioning look.

"I sent her back," Gwyn replied quickly.

"She's not home." Meriadoc shook his head.

"Well, maybe Posie wanted to take her time to get back home. But I promise you, Merry, I told her to return to your hobbit-hole once I arrived here."

"Gwynra Whitfoot." Cec hardened his tone and gave her a scolding glare. Gwyn's pale face flushed pink and she looked away.

"You still took Master Brandybuck's pony without permission, and that's still stealing." Cec rebuked.

"I'm…I'm really sorry." Gwyn mumbled and avoided both of the hobbit lads' eyes.

Surprisingly, Meriadoc calmly shook his head and said, "I forgive you…I understand why you did it. You came here to tell your brother about Griffo, didn't you?"

"Yes," Gwyn answered softly, surprised at Meriadoc's gesture of graciousness. "But," she continued with an expression of regret, "Merry…do you remember what Griffin said about me last night? That I was a thief?"

"Yes." Merry nodded."You are a thief, aren't you?"

Gwyn's dark eyes were laced with shame. "Yes. That's why I was traveling from here to Hobbiton and back in the first place…the day we met, Merry—remember?"

When Meriadoc nodded, Gwyn went on, "I was in a hurry, and you asked me why. I will tell you…it's because I was almost caught stealing. All I've done in Hobbiton was sneaking upon windowsills or gardens and taking food. My family has very little money, and our fellow villagers refuse to give us any food. They deny us everything. My mother makes me go steal food from distant villages; she thinks the ones closer to here will treat us the same as Newbury does. Remember rescuing me in High Hay from those who thought I was a witch? I think Mother is right; no village in Buckland wants anything to do with us Whitfoots."

Cec and Meriadoc stood in a stunned silence. Gwyn confessing her transgressions to Merry was something unexpected; Gwyn was never one to reveal a secret motive of hers, much less her past.

At first, Meriadoc seemed as if he wanted to ask why, but he obviously knew Cec and Gwyn would refuse to answer, so he dismissed the thought. Instead, he sighed and lifted a hand toward Gwyn. "Well, that's all in the past—all your stealing. I can tell you think that is wrong and you feel guilty about it, and that's enough for me. Come on, I'll take you back home, and we'll see if Posie is there, or maybe you ate her up like you tried with that raspberry pie."

Gwyn shot him a scathing smirk. "Funny," she retorted, but then sobered. "But I cannot go back with you."

"Why not?" Meriadoc seemed slightly hurt. "I came all the way here to get you…"

Gwyn glanced at Cec briefly before looking at Merry again. "Because Griffin may return and try to harm you again, Merry. He's far more paranoid and distrusting than I am."

"Yes, you're quite angelic compared to him," Meriadoc snickered.

"Be quiet," Gwyn snapped before continuing, "I just think that it'd be better if I went somewhere else…and don't say it, Meriadoc. _Don't say it._" She hissed through gritted teeth, seeing Meriadoc's mischievous eyes.

"Okay, okay," Meriadoc raised conciliatory hands, "But, Gwyn, I don't mind having you at my home at all—"

"It's not just me, it's not just you," Gwyn interrupted, "It's all of us, including Melonna and especially Griffin. In his antisocial state of mind, he will make irrational choices and act in aggression. He's dangerous when he thinks Cec or I are threatened, and he will do anything to great lengths to keep us safe."

Meriadoc's blue eyes darkened with concern when he finally realized the seriousness of Griffin's situation. "I see." He commented. "And you think he will try to harm Melonna and me?"

"Not Melonna," Gwyn shook her head. "He loves her."

"_Loves_ her!" Merry exclaimed, and Cec recognized the defensive stance of a protective brother figure rising in him. "I _knew_ I should've told—"

"Merry, _please_," Gwyn clenched her fists. "Listen to me. As long as I am away from you, Griffin is of no threat to you or Frodo also. I don't want to have to worry about you."

"That's very considerate of you, Gwyn," Meriadoc replied gently, "But I really don't care about being in that kind of danger; trust me, I've been in even _worse_ danger. And I want you to be safe, so I want to take you back to Hobbiton."

Cec turned away awkwardly and returned to behind his desk, listening to their conversation with half an ear.

Gwyn apparently had some feelings growing for Meriadoc.

And it was _mutual_, or maybe Cec just interpreted things too deeply. Yes, he definitely was interpreting things between Gwyn and Meriadoc too deeply; there was absolutely nothing between them, nothing at all.

_Denial isn't helping, you know._ Cec muttered to himself inwardly.

He only prayed that their relationship would not be conflicted. He only wanted them to be friends, and that was all. He didn't want to see Gwyn hurt again.

"Are you _sure_, Merry?" Gwyn's expression indicated that she was reconsidering.

"Yes. Absolutely. Besides, if you aren't there…I'll die from Melonna's cooking."

Cec laughed out loud, nodding. "Oh, I agree, I agree."

"_Ugh!_ If Griffin hadn't intruded last night, you'd see that her roast beef is actually tasty!"

"I'll keep you to that word, Gwynra."

"Fine. Just let me put on my cloak."

"You actually remembered it?"

"Oh, be silent!"

Cec rolled his eyes. Their banter was not as bad as Gwyn's and Sigismond's, and he liked that. Gwyn and Sigi's arguments were always loud, tempestuous, and ended with Gwyn in tears and Sigi fuming for hours. In Cec's opinion, Meriadoc was a gentler, more compassionate, and humbler version of Sigismond. _And much less creepy. Much less._

"Has this little…quarrel between you two been going on for a while?" Cec peered up from his paperwork to Gwyn.

"Ah," Gwyn shrugged as she pulled on her cloak and tied up the ribbons to bring the cloak together. "Only when Merry pokes fun at me or Melonna," she shot Meriadoc a glare. He only smiled innocently.

Cec nodded, feigning only mild interest. "I see." Pretending to be distracted, he looked back down at his files.

A tap on the desk brought up his head. Gwyn gave him a small smile. "Goodbye, brother."

Cec rose up and hugged Gwyn across the desk. "Be a good girl. Be safe."

"Will you tell Mother about Griffin?"

"Maybe." Cec shrugged indecisively. "I don't know how she will take it; I think I will wait to tell her."

"All right. Have a good day, Cec."

Gwyn left the office first. But just as Meriadoc reached the terrace, Cec stopped him. "Brandybuck," he called.

"Yes?" He faced Cec with upraised brows.

Cec gave Meriadoc a firm warning glance. "Be good to her. Don't hurt her, or you'll be getting it from me."

Meriadoc leveled his gaze with Cec sincerely. "You have my word. Good day."

"And," Cec continued, "You really should cover up that wound to compress it and to keep the stitches from tearing."

"All right. Thanks for letting me know."

Cec watched the open, dark doorway for a long time, deep in thought.

Merry watched Gwyn carefully as they walked down the dark hallway to the front lobby. The blonde secretary who called herself Swan raised her head from the desk and she gave Gwyn and Merry a little wave.

"Have a good day. Uh—be careful out there. Folk here aren't very kind." She warned.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you; good day," Merry replied, saluted, and opened the door, allowing Gwyn to leave first.

"Nice lass," Merry commented, trying to make small talk. He hated awkward silences—especially with Gwyn, for some unknown reason. "Isn't she the one who inadvertently told folk here about…whatever was going on with your family recently? The reason you had to leave here?"

"Mm-hmm." Gwyn nodded. "But she's friend of ours. She moved here about two years ago. She other than Mira is the only friend I have here, and what she did was an innocent mistake, I believe."

"Ah, I see." Merry walked faster to catch up with her. Gwyn's head was downcast, and Merry looked across the town square. He noticed a lot of hobbits had stopped and watched curiously. Some were pointing and some were frowning.

Merry felt some disgust towards their attitudes…what was their problem? He dared to place an arm around Gwyn's shoulders protectively and he led her away to the stables. Surprisingly, Gwyn did not pull away but instead let Merry hold her close to him.

When they arrived at his wagon with his pony standing by, Merry let go of Gwyn's shoulders, shaking himself of those strange tingling feelings inside him. He harnessed Sage up and helped Gwyn upon the wagon. Again, when he held Gwyn's hand to help her up, his own hand tingled.

Those feelings had been happening quite often in the past few weeks. But today they seemed to have grown. Merry shook his head, not really wanting to deal with that.

They left town, ignoring the murmurs and stares of the villagers.

It was a cold day, but Merry and Gwyn were bundled up comfortably, so they were just fine. And the bright sun also slightly added to the warmth. Only when a cold breeze blew did they shiver.

Merry admired the landscape. The grass had been touched by frost and so they were turning brown, and the forest nearby was almost void of all yellow, orange, and red hues and were replaced by decayed brown leaves, leaving the trees bare. When they reached the Brandywine Bridge, Merry looked down at the river, which shimmered as it reflected the sun.

"Merry?"

"Hmm?" Startled, Merry glanced at Gwyn.

"Why are you not mad at me for thieving Posie?"

Merry took a moment to answer. "Because I've come to realize that I can't condemn a person's transgressions if I have done the same myself. Remember how I was thrown into the Quest? Pippin and I had run into Frodo and Sam while we were lifting Farmer Maggot's crop."

Gwyn seemed touched. "Thank you for being forgiving, Merry."

"You are welcome." Merry smiled at her briefly before focusing on the Brandywine Bridge, maneuvering Sage carefully across.

"I hope Griffin is all right," he commented honestly.

Gwyn nodded, but Merry noticed a trace of disdain on her eyes.

What had happened that tore apart Gwyn and Griffin's relationship? Merry thought it was a very sad thing for siblings to harbor grudges toward each other.

Having grown up as an only child, the relative closest to Merry like a sibling always had been Pippin, but when he wasn't around, it was Melonna. Though they were not the perfect figurative sibling couple, they always forgave each other's flaws and moved on after every fight.

So—why did not Gwyn? Or Griffin? Their attitudes toward each other last night certainly had proven to Merry that things weren't right between them.

"Merry?"

"Yes?"

"Will you…will you please continue your story? From…last night?" She asked uncertainly.

"Oh…" Merry hesitated. He wasn't sure…

On the other hand, maybe if Merry opened up about his past, Gwyn would, too. It'd be only fair.

But that was a quite selfish way of thinking, though. Merry guiltily wiped away any selfish motives from his heart and nodded reluctantly. "Of course. I will tell you more of my story. But it gets scarier in the next 'chapter'. I'd better stop by the banks of the river…don't want to be distracted from steering Sage, especially because he's easily spooked."

"All right." She replied softly. Merry led Sage off the road and down the hill to the bank of Brandywine River. Sage leaned down to take a drink of water but choked and shook his head, nickering indignantly. The water must be too cold to drink, given how the weather was. Merry smiled, reaching forward to pat the horse's back. Then he and Gwyn shifted comfortably in their seats and faced each other slightly.

"Now, where was I…"

"_My tomato's burst." Merry sighed._

"_Could I have some bacon?" Pippin inquired but helped himself to more without waiting for an answer._

"_Want a tomato, Sam?" Merry asked, sitting between Pippin and Sam. Pippin sat cross-legged at Merry's left, helping himself to (more) bacon. Merry's burst tomato sat sadly on his plate, and Merry hoped to trick Sam into taking it so Merry wouldn't have to eat it._

"_What are you doing?" A dismayed voice rang from the other side of the mesa watchtower of Amon Sûl. Sam, Merry, and Pippin looked up to see an awoken Frodo staring at them incredulously._

"_Tomatoes, sausage, nice crispy bacon," Merry announced, not quite understanding his cousin's fears._

"_We saved some for you, Mister Frodo," Sam picked up a plate of food next to him and handed it over. But Frodo's reaction was unexpected and unwanted. Frantically, he rose up and ran over to the fire, dousing it and smashing the cooking food with his feet. "Put it out, you fools! Put it out!" He cried._

"_That's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!" Pippin complained indignantly._

_And then a hollow, distant screech silenced them._

_The hobbits sprang into action, all gathering their swords and rushing to the edge of the mesa to see what that eerie noise came from._

_Down below, they saw five black riders galloping up towards the watchtower. Fear crept into the four hobbits' very beings._

"_Go!" Frodo ordered, urging his companions into a surrounded part of the watchtower with pillar ruins around them. The hobbits stood back to back in a circle, waiting to defend themselves._

_After what seemed like a long, agonizing lifetime, a booming thump brought the hobbits up short. They all turned to see the first Nazgûl step down the jagged steps, a long metal sword held upright in his ironclad hands. And then his four other fellow Nazgûl joined him, all five walking forward with their swords slowly aiming to stab the hobbits._

_Merry was sure he'd never be in a situation as scary as this one. Merry and Frodo stood behind Pippin and Sam, and they all walked backwards, all half-frozen with fear but also uncertainty of what to do. None of them had much experience in sword-fighting._

_Sam, the hobbit who had his bold moments often, shouted, "Back, you devils!" He lunged forward, but the Nazgûl easily threw him aside, nearly knocking him unconscious when he hit his head on a wall. Merry and Pippin were left to protect Frodo; they jumped to block Frodo from the Ringwraiths, but one effortlessly grabbed them and pulled them apart, leaving Frodo as the sole one standing._

_Merry watched a terrified Frodo stumble back, drop his sword in a puddle, and fall onto the ground. And then Frodo seemed to be distracted by something…and he pulled out the Ring, making it clearly seen by the Ringwraiths. The first Ringwraith, which must be the leader, Merry guessed, saw the Ring first and swiped out his sword, advancing ahead. Merry, Pippin, and Sam were half-conscious after being knocked aside, so they were barely aware of what was going on._

_And then a pained cry brought Sam out of his consciousness, and he ran to Frodo immediately. Merry and Pippin shook their heads and were roused. They were horrified to see a wounded Frodo crying out as he lay on the other side of the circle. And Strider had mysteriously returned, fighting the Nazgûl with viciousness and flaming torches._

_Merry and Pippin rushed over to Frodo as well, and Merry touched Frodo's forehead. He was angered at such malice against his dear cousins and friends._

_The hobbits stayed with Frodo and watched in horrified silence as Strider fought off the Ringwraiths. One by one, they were eliminated, but Merry didn't know if they could be really killed, being such foul and vile creatures as were they._

"_Strider!" Sam called. The dark-haired bearded ranger of the North ran forward, consternation in his expression. "Help him, Strider," Sam pleaded._

"_He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider informed in dismay as he held up an abandoned Nazgûl sword. "This is beyond my skill to heal," Strider continued, "He needs elvish medicine."_

_The companions glanced at each other in worry as Strider lifted a deeply pained, gasping weakly Frodo into his arms and carrying him away. The hobbits followed him as fast as they could._

_The trip through the dark forest was uneventful but full of trepidation and stress for all of them. They were six days away from Rivendell, and hope for Frodo's survival was slim. Strider informed them Frodo wouldn't really die, but he would turn into a Ringwraith._

"_They're close," Merry observed somberly, listening to the eerie screech of a Ringwraith's horse. Strider ordered Sam to help him look for the plant _athelas_, which would slow the poisoning in Frodo's wound, which was a deep cut in his chest._

_And then the unexpected came. An elven woman came on her white steed and dismounted. She came to Frodo and spoke in elvish to him. Merry knew Frodo knew elvish, but Merry did not understand it himself. "Who is she?" He asked, standing by Sam, watching the beautiful dark-haired she-elf._

"What did she look like?" Gwyn asked in awe. "I have never seen an elf, not even in a children's storybook that I would read as a child."

Merry smiled slightly. "She's…you look a little like her, actually. Only her hair is straighter, fuller mouth, her face has a softer bone shape, and she is much, much taller."

"That's a little obvious." Gwyn remarked dryly. Then she turned serious again. "But go on." She seemed enthralled by this story and a little afraid for Frodo, although she would know that he survived, since he was here today.

"_She's an elf," Sam blurted, staring with awe at the tall elf lady. She and Strider seemed to already know each other, and they lifted Frodo and carried him to the lady's horse. "Where are you taking him?" Merry barked. He did not fully trust her and Strider yet. Strider and the she-elf ignored him, however._

_The two spoke quietly in elvish, much to the hobbits' confusion. Of all of them, Sam was the most worried._

_While the she-elf, named Arwen, rode off to Rivendell on her faster steed, Strider stayed behind with the hobbits and took them there on a slower pace._

_Days later, Merry and Pippin were overjoyed to find Frodo up and walking around. The hobbits liked Rivendell; it was beautiful, spacious, and had cool, autumn-like feel to it. Mountains and waterfalls surrounded the golden and topaz elven city set in a valley. But the hobbits were ready to go home._

_The Council of Elrond would change all that, however._

_It was all thanks to the nosy inquisitiveness of Sam, Merry, and Pippin, who decided to eavesdrop on the secret council meeting. They couldn't help it, really. Men, dwarves, and more elves from foreign lands had come to this meeting, and the small hobbits were intensely curious about what was going on, especially since that Frodo was summoned to the meeting as well._

_Merry and Pippin watched from either side of the doorway to the outdoors council balcony. They watched a pensive Frodo sit next to Gandalf the Grey, his longtime wizard friend whom Merry and Pippin had a hard time appreciating since he was judged to be "grumpy" and "bossy". But they were quite relieved to see he was here, safe and well, since he had been absent for their meeting at the Prancing Pony._

_The meeting was boring at first, although Merry found it interesting that this one man, Boromir from Gondor, seemed to think that the One Ring could be of good use. Lord Elrond the elf-king and Gandalf already had declared the Ring to be unfit of all use and must be destroyed. And the hobbit cousins were shocked to find out that Strider, the gentle but rough-looking, strong, and uncultured ranger, was the last descendant of the throne of Gondor, and his name was actually Aragorn, the son of Arathorn._

_And then it got interesting. Everyone except for Elrond, Frodo, and other elf rose up and started arguing loudly. And the quarrel was all because of the One Ring. Merry wondered, deep in his heart, what was in the Ring that provoked such evil and mindless rabble, and why it caused so much debate._

_Then Frodo spoke up. "I will take it."_

What?_ Merry's stomach dropped. From the words of this suspicious man Boromir, the land of Mordor, where the Ring was to be destroyed, was a dangerous and miserable area where escape apparently was almost impossible._

_But Frodo seemed determined. He rose from his chair and announced in a louder voice, "I will take it!"_

_The rest of them quieted down. Gandalf, with a proud and sad expression, turned around, as did the rest of the council. "I will take the ring to Mordor," Frodo repeated._

_Frodo's expression was firm, but grew uncertain. "Though…I do not know the way…"_

_Gandalf promised to help Frodo bear the burden of the Ring. Aragorn offered his sword. Legolas, a blonde elf from Mirkwood, offered his bow. Gimli, a short, stout dwarf with dark red hair and a thick beard, promised his ax._

"_You carry the fates of us all, little one." Boromir stepped forward. "If this is indeed the will of the council…" his brown eyes roved around the room briefly, "…Then Gondor will see it done."_

_Before anyone could speak any further, Merry and Pippin heard Sam cry out from behind a bush at other side of the council room. Sam ran down and ducked under Aragorn's arm, coming up to stand by Frodo, and he crossed his arms stubbornly. "Frodo's not going anywhere without me." He declared defiantly, unafraid of what stern-looking Elrond might say._

"_No, indeed," Elrond remarked with an amused smile, "It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."_

_Sam seemed slightly embarrassed, while Frodo smiled in amusement. _

_And Merry and Pippin couldn't contain themselves any longer. No way were they going to be left out of this adventure._

"Wait!_ We're coming, too!" Merry yelled, running up the steps to the circled balcony with Pippin at his heels. Elrond whirled around, a stern, shocked expression marring his face._

"_You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Pippin informed Elrond, not caring whether he was in authority or not. Merry came up by Frodo's side, beaming at him. Frodo seemed torn in between refusing him and Pippin to come and permitting._

"_Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission…" Pippin continued. But he was clearly unsure of what this adventure was supposed to be called. Merry glanced at him with slight teasing disdain. "Quest…" Pippin finished, "…Thing."_

"_Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry sent his cousin a disdainful look. Pippin nodded in agreement but then caught onto Merry's jibe quickly, sending Merry a puzzled look._

"_Nine companions," Elrond remarked. "…So be it," he confirmed. Merry straightened his jacket, rather nervous about it now._

"_You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." Elrond finished with a proud smile._

_Merry wanted to dance a jig; he was barely containing himself already. He glanced at Pippin briefly, grinning._

"_Great!" Pippin answered happily. And then he asked, "Where are we going?"_

_Merry, for the seventh time that day, wanted to give his cousin a good whack across the head._

Merry and Gwyn giggled together. "Oh, that Pippin," Gwyn shook her head. "He doesn't seem to have changed much from then to now…"

Merry didn't quite agree. "In some ways no, but trust me, he's a lot more mature than he was. He just hasn't lost his inquisitiveness or optimism, which I am glad for. He…he has a fear of fire, which I suppose came from what happened in Gondor."

"What happened there? Where's Gondor?" Gwyn asked.

Merry chuckled. "Now you sound like Pippin. And he saved Captain Faramir, who was the steward of Gondor's younger son, from being burned alive by his mentally insane father. Gondor is a land far, far away from here; it is in the South. It is west of the volcanic, ashy land of Mordor."

Gwyn's eyes widened. "Oh, Merry. I never imagined you, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam had such a…horrible adventure. At least—I'd never want to go anywhere beyond Bree; it all sounds so scary."

"Believe me, you'd be right to feel that way," Merry nodded. "There is much more to be told of my story…but not all of it I will tell you." He faltered, thinking wistfully of Boromir and King Théoden.

_Éowyn._ Merry mentally kicked himself for thinking of her. While his infatuation towards her was significantly fading away, her memory stayed in his mind—and heart. And that still bothered Merry, even though he did not know why.

Realizing he'd been silent for longer than a minute, Merry spoke up, "Well…we'd better get back home before lunch, yes? And maybe you'd like other nap before tea time; you seem tired."

Gwyn nodded gratefully. "Yes, I'd like that. Your room was cold last night, probably because that window wasn't covered up effectively." Then her face reddened. "And I'm sorry for sleeping in your bed…"

Merry laughed outright. "I don't mind. Good thing I wasn't there as well, huh?"

"Yes." And for the first time, Gwyn laughed along. It was a real laugh and her smile was bright and genuine. Merry liked her smile.

They rode the rest of the way home in companionable silence, and this time, Merry was content. Just as long as Gwyn was truly happy, he was content.

* * *

It was unnaturally quiet in downtown Hobbiton today, much to Frodo's relief. They rode on Frodo's wagon in companionable silence. Occasionally Melonna reached over and petted Strider and Arwen, wanting to become better acquaintance with the ponies.

The glassmaker was located at the west side of town, close to the new family from Long Cleeve. Frodo and Melonna walked into the shop. It smelled like cedar in there; the glassmaker, Wilcome Smallburrow, had a love for cedar trees, therefore, all of his furniture was made from cedar.

The elderly Wilcome Smallburrow looked up from his long desk and smiled cheerfully at Frodo and Melonna. Frodo liked Wilcome; he was one of the few people in Hobbiton who did not look at him strangely and ask nosy questions. He was a fine, gallant old chap. He also had been a good friend of Uncle Bilbo's, so that was probably why Wilcome showed Frodo so much respect.

"Hullo there, young Baggins! What brings you here?" Wilcome asked, moving forward. "And who is this lovely young lass with you?" His dark eyes twinkled merrily. Melonna blushed and looked down.

Frodo bit his lip to keep it from breaking out into a grin. "She is a friend of mine, and also a cousin of Merry's from the other side of the family."

"Melonna Goldworthy," Melonna smiled and stuck out her hand to shake Wilcome's. "Oldest and only daughter of Adelard and Menegilda Goldworthy. Originally from Newbury, Buckland, but now my parents live in Waymeet and I live with Merry in his uncle Merimac's hobbit-hole."

Wilcome nodded, observing Melonna through politely scrutinizing eyes. "I see, I see…I've heard of the name Menegilda…is she the sister of Saradoc Brandybuck?"

"Yes, she is, sir."

Wilcome's eyes lit up and he chuckled. "Oh-ho-ho, I know her, all right. Oh, I remember when Saradoc and Menegilda were only little ones and they'd come into the shop with their father…I was a tweenager back then and I'd watch over them while their father haggled prices with my father."

Melonna smiled, pleased. Wilcome continued, "You look just like your mother. Oh, she was so lovely."

Melonna ducked her head, embarrassed. Frodo heard something like _"I'm not pretty, so stop flattering me,"_ in a whispered mutter from her.

Wilcome turned to Frodo and asked, "All right, Master Baggins…I can assume you came for glass, eh? Needing new windows?"

"Yes…well, Meriadoc Brandybuck does," Frodo replied. "His bedroom window is broken. He needs a new one before the weather gets any chillier. Melonna and I came to inform you while he is on a trip to bring back a house guest who…left unexpectedly." He hoped Wilcome would not ask any questions.

Fortunately, Wilcome was never nosy and nodded good-naturedly. "Of course. Does Master Brandybuck need a specific glass of any kind? Or just regular? And what size?"

Frodo gave him the size of the window and told him to make a regular one. Wilcome nodded and asked Frodo and Melonna to wait for half an hour while he rummaged through his stock room for one.

Frodo and Melonna mutually decided to wander around the marketplace while they waited. Frodo was hesitant, though, because he'd already brought scrutiny upon himself because of his finger and recent disappearance from the Shire.

Melonna walked up to a stall of vegetables to buy some corn. Frodo lagged behind, sticking his hands in his pockets, and keeping his gaze low.

Just then, his ears perked when he heard distant voices coming from around the corner. Loud, obnoxious voices. He stiffened.

The Sackville-Bagginses!

He saw a smiling Melonna coming towards him with a basket of corn. And the voices behind him grew closer. "Melonna!" He hissed. She stared at him curiously. Frodo couldn't wait any longer; he had to hide.

"Come with me," he took hold of her left arm and quickly ushered her through the alley between the glassmaker's shop and the fabrics shop. Frodo half-dragged Melonna behind a tall, wide wooden crate probably holding garbage.

"Frodo—" Melonna spoke up, confused.

"_Sshhh!_" Frodo shushed, holding her firmly to his chest. Her back was to him.

"You're hurting me," Melonna whispered. Frodo loosened his grip around her waist. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair. He sensed her confusion and partial discomfort.

"Baggins? That you?" A voice screeched down the alley. Frodo flinched, hoping that louse-mouthed Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses would be stupid and lazy enough not to come down here.

And she was. He heard Otho, Lobelia's husband, come up to her and ask where that blasted Baggins boy was.

"I don't know! I told you it was just your imagination, you portly-bellied, no-good husband of mine!"

"You useless, hypocritical wench! You were the one who dragged me all the way down here just because you 'saw' that Baggins wretch in town! Come on, we're goin' home."

"All right! No need to be cranky about it! And don't you dare touch the pork I'm making for supper!"

The two's voices died away as they wandered off, still bickering bitterly.

Frodo finally let go of Melonna's waist. She exhaled uneasily and stepped away, glancing up at Frodo uncertainly.

"Unpleasant folk, aren't they?" She muttered, echoing his own thoughts. Frodo nodded in agreement. But his mind floated over to when he'd held Melonna close to him. Unbidden, an aching had risen up in his heart, and he didn't want it. He didn't know what it was. Melonna's hair was soft…and smelled of fresh rain. He'd always loved the smell of the air after a rainy morning.

Discomfited by the thoughts and feelings he was having, he stiffened and pressed his hands down his tunic, giving Melonna a small smile. "Shall we go?"

Melonna gave him a curious look but nodded silently, following him out of the alley. A few minutes later, Wilcome came out of his shop and called for Frodo and Melonna, summoning them to pick up Merry's new bedroom window.

Melonna was quiet on the way back home like before. She didn't dare speak to Frodo. The way he'd held her in the alley…it'd made her heart pound, but she knew he did not return her feelings. He never would.

Melonna resolved to pull up walls between her and Frodo so that his intuitive nature wouldn't be able to see right through her heart.

Frodo dropped Melonna off at Merry's hobbit-hole and returned to his own. Melonna spent the next two hours idling around the home until Merry returned…with Gwyn!

Melonna rushed out to the stalls and pulled Gwyn into a crushing hug. Gwyn smiled and hugged her back.

Melonna leaned back slightly and sent Gwyn a scolding gaze. "Don't you ever, ever run off like that again, Gwynra Whitfoot!"

Gwyn shrugged sheepishly. "Forgive me?"

"Of course." Melonna smiled warmly. "Now…let's warm up that roast beef we were supposed to have for last night's supper! It's well time for lunch already."

Merry sent his cousin a wary glance with twinkling eyes. "It's not poisoned, is it?"

Melonna shot him a dirty glare before taking Gwyn by the elbow and practically dragging her up to the hobbit-hole.

"How's home?" Melonna cast Gwyn a quick look before setting the pot over the fire. That pot had been lying on the floor since last night.

"Fine, I suppose." Gwyn shrugged. But Melonna heard the lie clearly in her tone.

"Are you sure, Gwyn?" Melonna asked seriously.

Gwyn avoided her stare. "I…yes." She nodded before turning away to the counter. She took some lettuce and tomato, preparing a salad.

Melonna walked forward and leaned a hand on the taller girl's shoulder.

"I know about your papa…it's your papa, isn't it?"

Tears formed in Gwyn's dark eyes. She bit her lip so hard Melonna feared it'd bleed.

"Gwyn, it's okay. Let it out…" Melonna gently pushed the knife away from Gwyn's hand and pulled Gwyn into an embrace.

And then the floodgates opened a crack. Melonna heard Gwyn choke back a sob as she laid her head on her friend's shoulder. Gwyn shuddered heavily.

"Cry. You know you need to." Melonna coaxed, but Gwyn wouldn't hear of it. She shook her head and pulled away. "No. I'll be fine. Papa will be fine." She nodded, still biting her lip. But her nose and eyes were nearly red. Melonna's heart hurt with compassion for Gwyn. She clearly was a wounded soul who didn't want anyone to see her vulnerability.

"All right," Melonna replied softly. Hesitantly, she added, "Then…how was your ride back with Merry?"

Gwyn's eyes flickered. She was relieved with the change in topic. "It went well. Merry told me a little more about his quest. Then we just…rode. Quiet."

"I see," Melonna nodded casually as she returned to the roast beef pot to stir. "And…" she decided to jab at Gwyn a little to break the boundaries between them. "…Did you confess your undying feelings for him?"

"I did not!" Gwyn shot out, appalled. She narrowed her eyes at her teasing friend, half annoyed and half amused. "…And I do not have feelings for him!"

"Mm-hmm," Melonna smirked sweetly. "But let me know when you do." She winked. Gwyn rolled her eyes and returned to the salad.

At least the friendly, stable atmosphere had returned.

But for how long…Gwyn didn't know.

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_**A/N: This is my longest chapter to date (font: Verdana, size: 9, Microsoft Office 2007 Word Document, 19 pages, 9,824 words)…wow! :P Enjoy. And for fun…push the little button below! :D**_


	14. Burgeoning Intrigue

_**Chapter Fourteen: Burgeoning Intrigue**_

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_**A/N: First of all—I'd just like to thank every one and all of you lovely people who have reviewed, alerted, and favorited Just Merry since March 3 of last year. :) I can't believe my "baby" is over a year old and it's not finished yet! :/ **_

_**I hope you continue enjoying this story—and reviewing. :D As of lately, I haven't had many reviews. :/**_

_**But…I have a surprise. :D I have FOUR more chapters after this—almost very much ready to be published! And so, here is my offer, readers… :) If I get at least FIVE reviews on this chapter, I will immediately update this with the next chapter! :) If I don't, then I will just wait a week or two to update. ;P I don't want to sound like I'm threatening you or anything… ;) I just really would love more reviews. :) I hope you'll accept this offer! :D**_

_**WARNING: One suggestive reference. Apologies if it offends you.**_

_**I'd like to thank mecherry for sticking with me through thick and thin over this fanfic for the past year AND for not having a mental breakdown when I sent her FOUR chapters (plus one extra later on ;P XD) to beta—all in one weekend! ;)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**_

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A few more weeks passed, and suddenly it was November. Hobbiton began bustling away to store up food for the weather, harvest their crops, and build fires more often in their fireplaces to keep the house warm. Windows and doors closed. Children played outside only when the weather was decent and they would be all bundled up. And the Autumn's End Harvest Festival was just around the corner.

Merry, Melonna, and Gwyn lived happily in Merry's little home, and Frodo would pay them a visit once or twice a week. He and Melonna became closer, and Frodo found himself trusting and admiring Gwyn more. The dark-haired mystery lass became more and more open and cheerful, and soon there were times when she would even laugh more than twice a day—a rarity for Gwyn. And Frodo and Melonna couldn't help but notice that Gwyn and Merry's subtle attraction to each other was growing as well.

These hobbits weren't the only ones who had wobbly knees and uncertain thoughts about their newfound feelings. Pippin and Diamond spontaneously decided to start courting, much to the shock of everyone. Pippin joked that he was courting Diamond so he could get married before Merry, so he should go ahead and marry Gwyn as quickly as possible. Pippin ended up getting a bruise on the head from the corn cob Merry had thrown at him. Gwyn had glared at Pippin for a couple of days after that.

Sam and Rosie were starting to feel the effects of wedding jitters; their own wedding was in less than three months already. Fortunately, Merry's corn crop had grown fully on time, and now he had stored up corn in Sam's home for the wedding. Everyone in Hobbiton was giddy with excitement about the upcoming Cotton-Gamgee wedding; it would be the second-largest and second long-expected party.

Melonna skipped up the path to Hobbiton, clad in a snug green cape and a red scarf with fringes. She shivered against the brisk breeze. Holding onto her basket, she inhaled the crisp, yet frigid air as she observed the sunny surroundings. The trees were brown and barren, their glorious autumn colors diminished for the coming winter. But Melonna knew that once snow came, those trees would glisten beautifully with white ice. The only times of the year when trees looked dreary and gangly were November, February, and March.

She nodded greetings and smiled at each fellow hobbit who walked by her on the main square of Hobbiton. She observed the statuette of the founder of the Shire standing in the middle of the block. But in her distraction, she bumped into somebody.

That somebody caught her arm in a none-too-gentle grip. "Well, well, well." A dry voice drawled, and Melonna immediately knew who it was. She looked up to meet the intense, dark blue eyes of Sigismond Noakes.

"Look who's had her head in the clouds again, Melonna, eh?" Sigi chuckled, and Melonna glared, stepped away, and whipped her arm out of the taller hobbit's strong grip.

"Sorry for bumping into you." She muttered. _Not really._

"Hold on, you can't go yet," Sigi caught her hand just when she turned away.

"Let go," Melonna ordered, staring up at Sigi in alarm and confusion.

"No, not now, not until I've had my say," Sigi refused, speaking to Melonna as if she was a young child. She bristled at his vain and authoritative manner. "What?" She snapped.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing…and your future Master of Buckland cousin…and Gwynnie, of course." Sigi let go of Melonna, appearing offended. But Melonna knew it was just a ploy to make her calm down and feel guilty.

"They—we're fine, thank you." Melonna replied stiffly. She avoided the gaze of walking bystanders; almost half of Hobbiton already knew of Melonna's opinion of Sigi. Melonna had never been good at keeping her opinions to herself. _"Too opinionated, that Melly,"_ her father would always say.

"Good," Sigi smiled slyly. Melonna raised up her guard even higher. What was that no-good, two-timing smarmy snake up to?

"I was wondering, Melly, if you'd like to come with me to the harvest festival," Sigi's tone turned softer, his expression turning gentle and welcoming. He even used her childhood nickname.

Melonna glared as hostilely as she could. "No." She spat. "Not even Orcs, Balrogs, or Nazgûl could make me go _anywhere_ with you in this age of Middle-earth, Sigismond Noakes."

The other hobbit looked shocked and confused. He'd heard of Orcs, but Balrogs and Nazgûl… "What the heck are you talking about, lass?"

Melonna would've wagered that no other girl ever had rejected Sigi this coldly. But she knew that she must've been a little too harsh. She still glared, but let her tone soften a little. "Excuse me for my manners. I'm just surprised that you'd ask me, is all. But I certainly still don't want to go with you."

Sigi rolled his eyes and shrugged, feigning defeat. "All right. I understand, of course. What girl in her right mind would go out with a gentlehobbit like me—especially one who has a certain reputation…" he grinned abashedly. Melonna wrinkled her nose in disdain.

"I suspect Gwyn would be jealous, though." Sigi smirked at Melonna, and then pretended contriteness, "And I wouldn't want to hurt your dear sister-to-sister-heart relationship." He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Please," Melonna scoffed, her annoyance boiling over into impulsivity, "Gwyn would not even look at you at the harvest festival; I'd even gamble on it. She's in love with someone else." She crossed her arms, maneuvering her hands through the basket handle. She smiled smugly at Sigi, who looked clearly displeased. _Ha! Right back in his place._

"Uh-uh." Sigi's quick-as-a-fox persona switched from consternation to skepticism. "And may I ask of whose gentlehobbit now holds our fickle, flighty hobbit lass' cold heart?"

"Merry, of course!" Melonna replied in a superior tone, ignoring the warning alarm going off in her head. This was going too far. But Melonna was determined once and for all to put Sigi in his place and to keep him away from her Gwyn. Hers and Merry's Gwyn. "They're together most days, walking, going to the marketplace, visiting, talking. I wouldn't be surprised if they—"

"Jumped into bed together any time soon?" Sigi's lascivious comment cut in, startling Melonna into silence. It took two, three seconds for her mind to recycle his words and then she comprehended the immoral message behind those words. Sigi's insinuation of…_that_ made Melonna's blood boil. _How dare he suggest… _Finally, Melonna's brain racked over for the most cutting rebuke she could give him, but all she could think of was three words she remembered from reading over Frodo's shoulder as he let her watch him write his semi-autobiography.

"You…_treacherous toad_!" She shouted, stalking over and striking him viciously across the cheek. Sigi stumbled back and yowled, holding onto his tanned cheek. Bystanders paused slightly, watching the scene before them briefly before rushing off nervously.

Sigi recovered gradually and quickly, straightening up to glower at Melonna. She recognized the steaming anger in his eyes and she immediately regretted her earlier words and attitude. She stepped back, preparing to leave quickly, but Sigi's fist came up to strike her back too soon—

And then other hand came out of nowhere and grabbed Sigi's forearm, deterring him. Melonna looked to the left—to face a grim, threatening Frodo Baggins standing there, tightening his fist over Sigi's arm. Melonna's pounding heart did not subside, but her pent-up breath released.

"Nine-fingered Frodo?" Sigi remarked incredulously, his anger forgotten, replaced by surprise that the reclusive hermit Frodo Baggins would suddenly come up to rescue a damsel in distress.

Frodo's mouth thinned into a hard line, and his brilliant blue eyes were icy. "If you don't want to get hurt any worse, then you'll leave," he spoke in a quiet, yet steely tone.

Sigi stared at Frodo, openmouthed, uncertain, but still resistant. "Yah? What will ya do if I don'?" he challenged with only a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Frodo didn't have to speak. He pushed his green cape to reveal a long sword hanging from the hilt of his belt. Sigi's eyes widened until they looked like tea saucers. Melonna knew that sword—Frodo called it _Sting_. His uncle Bilbo had named it, though.

Sigi gulped and slowly loosened his fist, slowly forcing his arm down. Frodo still narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but once he saw Sigi was no longer willing to act rashly, he let go of Sigi's arm. Sigi pressed his left palm over his right arm, as if he was protecting himself. He looked from Frodo to Melonna and back to Frodo warily. "You two are mad," he muttered as he stalked off.

Frodo inhaled sharply, angered, but Melonna stepped up to him, placing a gentle palm over his upper chest. "Mister Frodo. It's all right. He is not worth it." She reassured him as rationally as she could. Frodo looked down at her and relented after a minute. Then Melonna withdrew her hand. She felt her entire arm tingling.

"Are you all right?" Frodo looked down at her with concern deep in his eyes. Melonna smiled faintly, touched. "Of course I am, Mister Frodo. It was my fault, really. I was impulsive and rude to him. And I did hit him first." She looked down sheepishly.

It was Frodo's turn to smile faintly. Melonna loved how the corners of his mouth would dimple slightly when he smiled. "Is hitting angry hobbit lads a practice of yours?" He teasingly asked, reminding Melonna of the last time she hit a lad—Griffin. She giggled shortly and ducked her head, blushing.

"Come on," Frodo started, lifting a hand towards her, "Let me take you home."

"Oh, no, thank you," Melonna shook her head, "I'm actually just on my way _here_—to see Berylla Sandyman and buy a dress from her for Gwyn." She grinned, "I'm hoping to manipulate her into going to the Autumn's End Harvest Festival with Merry."

Frodo raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Is that so? Well, good luck on that…"

Melonna nodded, feeling foolishly disappointed and also stupid for hoping he'd ask her out. Although she believed Frodo would never love her, she still couldn't stop loving _him_.

They went over to Sandyman's Skirts, a dressmaker shop in direct competition with Prisca Hornblower Designs. Melonna couldn't decide on which dressmaker she preferred, although she usually went to Prisca's because it was slightly closer to home. She decided to go to Berylla's shop for a change; maybe she had autumn colors that would complement Gwyn's fair skin and dark hair.

Frodo stood by the door with his hands stuck in his pockets. He felt relieved that traffic in the shop was very light; he and Melonna were the only current customers. He looked around the shop casually as Melonna surveyed the few already-made dresses hanging on two separate racks. Most other materials were supposed to be bought and then made by the buyer.

"Hello, Melonna," Berylla Sandyman walked up to the blonde lass. Berylla was smaller than Melonna by three or four inches and she had dark brown hair tied back in a half-ponytail. The pretty young lass smiled coolly. Melonna took no offense; a year ago, Berylla was truly one of the most spiteful hobbit lasses in the Shire, but then after meeting her present fiancé, she changed for the better. She still had a slightly aloof air around her, but she had warmed considerably over the months. She kept her old façade still probably because she was afraid of rejection.

"Hi, Berry," Melonna smiled back, "I was wondering if you have something like…burnt orange?"

"Oh, yes," The other girl's hazel eyes lit up, "I just made one yesterday. It's in the back room, I believe. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes!" Melonna agreed. Berry nodded and held up a finger, gesturing at her to wait.

Melonna turned around to look over at Frodo. He nodded once at her in acknowledgement.

"Mister Frodo, I have a question," Melonna inquired. Frodo raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "Are you…well…" Melonna faltered nervously for a moment before her courage fueled, "…Are you planning on going to the harvest festival?"

Frodo shrugged and shook his head, "Actually, no. Merry and Pippin might badger me to, but…no. I'd rather stay home."

"Oh," Melonna felt disappointed, but she knew she should've expected it. "…I think I'll stay home as well," she considered aloud.

"Because of Sigismond?" Frodo's compassion and amazing perception never failed to impress Melonna.

"Yes," she answered. She sighed heavily. "He just gets under my skin," she muttered as she shuddered.

"I understand." Frodo sent her a sympathetic look. He seemed as if he wanted to add something, but he just fell silent.

"Here it is!" Berry announced as she sauntered back into the room. She held up a dark orange ankle-length dress with a pattern of yellow and red leaves splattered all over. Around the waistline was a black silk belt tied by a bow on the back. The collar, cuffs, and the buttons in the back were black as well.

Melonna's mouth dropped and grew into an elated grin as she observed the elegant design. "Oh, my goodness, Berry!" She gushed, "That dress will go beautifully with my friend's black hair and fair skin—I love it. How much is it, please?"

Berry beamed, pleased with the praise. "It's not priced yet, actually. I haven't decided on how well the quality is, so…you can have it for free."

"Really?" Melonna felt her eyes going wide as saucers.

Berry smiled in amusement. "Really. Besides, my fiancé will be here any minute, and he will balk at the sight of orange. So you'd better get this out of here as soon as possible," her eyes twinkled,

Melonna giggled. "Of course. Poor Ed." Ed, Berry's fiancé, had a quirky aversion towards orange. But Berry knew why, although the reason was private. Ed and Berry were to be married in June.

"Hello, Master Baggins," Berry tilted slightly to look at Frodo, "Are you here to purchase something as well?"

"No, Miss Sandyman. But thank you." Frodo bowed his head politely.

Berry nodded in response before sending Melonna a raised eyebrow and sly smile. Melonna narrowed her eyes warningly. Berry shrugged defensively, still smiling mischievously as she carefully folded up the dress and placed it in brown paper, wrapping it up and tying it with two straw strings.

"We'll be going now. Thank you for your help and generosity," Melonna put the package in her basket and then beamed at Berry, giving her a slight one-armed hug. Berry seemed pleasantly surprised by the gesture and nodded, smiling guardedly. "You're welcome—anytime. Have a good day, you two!"

Frodo and Melonna left the shop, walking side-by-side. "Ah, that Berry," Melonna remarked, "She reminds me so much like Gwyn…at least in the past."

Frodo looked at her sideways, "You mean Gwyn used to be like the new Berry or the old Berry?"

Melonna chuckled, "The new. Gwyn used to be more outgoing and friendly, but she also had a slightly snubbed-up-nose persona, mainly because she was of 'rich pedigree'. And then—" Melonna halted in her words, realizing she was revealing far too much.

"I see," Frodo answered thoughtfully. Melonna could tell his curiosity was piqued, but he also respected Gwyn's privacy and Melonna's desire to keep reserve on Gwyn's past. Melonna was glad about that and admired Frodo's sense of respect, nearly unlike Merry's. Melonna suppressed a smile. She and Merry were so different from Frodo—nosy, intrusive, and hotheaded.

And Gwyn—in a lot of respects, she was Frodo's exact match. Quiet, secretive, reserved, bitter, and slightly paranoid. But also honorable, generous, intelligent, and gentle.

"Where to now, Melonna?" Frodo asked.

"Home," Melonna smiled, patting the brown paper package holding the dress within. She held the basket to her stomach as she walked alongside Frodo.

They strolled past the stables. Melonna kept her gaze up and ahead, but she sensed Sigi's dark gaze on her. She suppressed a shiver, but her fear was alleviated when Frodo stepped closer to her, even going as far as placing a supportive hand under her elbow. Her heart beat rapidly.

Once they were past the stables, Frodo let go of her elbow. Melonna then dared a glance up at him. "Mister Frodo—"

"Just call me Frodo," he smiled slightly, "We're friends now, aren't we? Actually, I don't like being called Mister Frodo by anyone. Sam has overused it on me, so…" he chuckled after hearing Melonna laugh gaily.

"He has! Every time I'm with you two, all he seems to say is 'Mister Frodo this', 'Mister Frodo that'…"

Frodo shook his head, surprised at how his spirits felt lifted and that he was actually grinning genuinely, "He only calls me just 'Frodo' when he's angry or in a hurry. I've kept telling him not to, because, well, he's like my brother, so I don't want that proper address."

"I agree," Melonna snickered, "It would be so odd if Merry started calling me 'Miss Melonna' all the time—it'd be impersonal."

"He calls you that when he's mad, I've noticed," Frodo observed, "Much the opposite of Sam and me."

Melonna smiled up at him abashedly, "My cooking still needs improving…"

"Yes, but that broiled rabbit from Tuesday night was very good," Frodo complimented her with a reassuring smile.

Melonna grinned and blushed, looking down at her toes. "Gwyn is a good cook—and a good teacher as well." She acknowledged.

"Speaking of Gwyn…" Frodo hated to dampen the mood that was taking his mind off his troubles and pains, "…Have you heard from her brother—Griffin…lately?"

Melonna's smile faltered as she thought before answered, "Honestly, no…but I think he's around."

"How so?" Frodo's brow furrowed.

"He comes out at night," Melonna answered hesitantly, "And I think he lurks around my house while we're still sleeping. He's protecting Gwyn and me."

Frodo frowned slightly, listening intently.

"And one night I thought I felt something touching my head, but when I woke up I saw nothing—and the window was open."

Frodo's ears perked up at that statement, and his gut twisted. Not that he thought Griffin would intentionally hurt Melonna—but he still felt a sense of protectiveness towards her. "I do not want to sound offensive—but that sounds rather intrusive of him."

Melonna shrugged, reluctantly agreeing, "Yes. It bothers me a little. I just want him to come out and talk to me—us. Gwyn has no idea he's around...if she did; we would be able to tell. She resents Griffin right now."

Frodo grew more curious about Gwyn, Griffin, and Melonna's relationship. "How were you three friends?" He blurted out, and then instantly sent Melonna a glance of regret.

"It's all right, I'll answer that," Melonna smiled quickly in understanding, "You know I used to grow up in Buckland, right? While Merry lived in Brandy Hall and you came along later on, I was raised in Newbury along with Griffin, Gwyn, and their family. We'd known each other since we were babies…I'm just two years younger than Griffin and Gwyn, and Cec is four years older than them. We all would play together nearly every day. We all were like next-door siblings, really. I strangely remember Cec and Griffin more than Gwyn in our early years, but Gwyn and I were always the closest to each other. Then three years ago…" Melonna stopped. A shadow went over her usually lively blue eyes.

"Things just fell apart." She shrugged simply. "My family quickly moved to Waymeet at that time…around that time, I officially met you."

Frodo still didn't know what happened, but judging by Melonna's seriousness, he finally perceived that maybe…_maybe_ someone had died, thereby creating the animosity between the Whitfoot twins.

"_Officially_, you say?" Frodo attempted to lighten up the mood and cheer up Melonna.

Melonna looked up at him and giggled, flushing a bit. "Yes. I had heard from Merry about you all my life. Odd coincidences were, whenever I visited him in Brandy Hall, you weren't there. And when Merry visited me in Newbury, you hadn't come along. Merry always joked that you were a sort-of a hermit crab."

Unexpectedly, Frodo laughed. Melonna gazed up at him, relieved and pleased that he had taken no offense and apparently had no recollection of when _she_ had spitefully called him a hermit crab. She grinned. "Yeah. He was joking, though."

"Remind me to tell you stories about _Merry_ when we were living together in Brandy Hall," Frodo shifted his eyes at her, smiling impishly. Melonna snickered.

"And in my defense, I always preferred to read and climb trees outside. And sometimes I'd fish. All by myself, of course…" Frodo finished sheepishly.

Melonna nudged him slightly, "Aw, it's all right. Gwyn was always a little like that…and I'd be begging to go with her," she ended with a self-conscious chuckle. "Anyway…when I moved to Waymeet, I'd go over to Hobbiton to visit with Rose Cotton. I even visited Berry at times. And I'd see your uncle Bilbo to hear stories and to learn to read better…and that's when we met. Speaking of Bilbo…is he still with the Elves? I thought he was to return two months ago."

"Yes. He wanted to stay longer." Frodo answered, feeling the pang of missing his favorite relative deeply. "He'll be back next spring, though. And we are to leave for the Grey Havens—"

"What?" Melonna snapped her gaze up at him in alarm. "Isn't Grey Havens the place where you…just never come back?"

Frodo gazed at her sharply. He hadn't meant to reveal that fact—and just thinking about the fact of his departure, he realized that not only he'd miss Sam, Merry, Pippin, and even Rosie…he'd also miss Melonna.

Melonna was staring up at him with dismay evident on her smooth and fair features. The sun above made her golden curls seem to shine. But in her distraught shock, Melonna took a misstep and stumbled to the right. She would have tumbled down off the road if Frodo hadn't quickly reached out and grabbed her arms, pulling her back up and holding her close to his chest. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yes," Melonna stammered, a pink tinge staining her cheeks, "I'm sorry…your news just really, really surprised me, is all." She the noticed how close she was to Frodo, and her heart pace went up a notch.

Frodo felt his own heart beating faster, and his palms felt sweaty. Disconcerted by this turn of events and—_feelings_, he gently let go of Melonna's arms, effectively allowing her to step back. Melonna turned away from him, but not before he noticed her puzzled and anxious expression. Melonna picked up her fallen package and basket and walked away, but slowly, as if she was simply waiting for him to catch up.

Frodo shook his head rapidly and lifted his shoulders, annoyed with how he'd let down his guard and allowed to let in some…_unfamiliar_ feelings. He strode up next to Melonna, resuming their walk.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, but when Frodo arrived at Bag End and Melonna murmured her goodbyes before departing for her and Merry's home, Frodo quickly placed a hand on her shoulder, deterring her. She turned around, peering up at him curiously.

"Melonna…I'm sorry. That you feel this way, I mean. I…I'll miss all of you, you know. When I leave." He said softly, gazing down at her sadly.

Melonna shrugged in resignation. "I understand, Frodo. Merry has told me all of what he knows about the Grey Havens; he's said that it's a place for beings like you…who have been in through much toil and pain. And that place will restore peace and relief in you. So…if you want to go…you'll go. I don't want to stop you…at least not really. I don't want you to be in pain anymore. I should stop being selfish…and be happy that you'll be happy there."

Frodo blinked gazing at her in mild awe. Who was this girl and why was she speaking like this? _Melonna truly is growing up. She truly is becoming a kind, unselfish, and understanding hobbit lass._

"Thank you, Melonna." Frodo smiled slightly. "I'll be happy there…but I will still miss you all here."

"I should hope so," Melonna's mouth curved wryly, teasingly.

Frodo smiled wider at her good humor. "Of course. Now…please, Melonna, the last thing I want is you crying when you leave. Come on—cheer up."

"I'll…I'll try." Melonna attempted a sad, but satisfactory smile. She glanced about self-consciously. "Good day, Frodo."

"Good day, Melonna." Frodo inclined his head in respect before going through his gate and up his steps to his home.

But his ears caught the defeated sigh coming from Melonna as she walked off. "Melonna, wait," he remembered something.

"What?" She turned around, blue eyes wide with wonder.

"Please…keep this between us. I want to tell Sam, Merry…and the others, myself, when the timing is right."

"Of course," Melonna nodded, and with one last sad smile, she left.

Frodo felt his heart sink slightly. But then determination wove him over. He was to leave for the Grey Havens with Bilbo. And that was his final plan.

Melonna walked lazily the rest of the way home, her spirits feeling heavy. The only hobbit she really loved…leaving…forever.

But he'd be happy _there_. Not here. Not with annoying, too-happy-and-yappy, hotheaded Melonna Goldworthy, right? And Melonna truly wanted Frodo to be happy. Even if it'd cost her own.

Melonna sighed heavily once again, pausing before her front door before entering. She heard the cheerful chatter between Gwyn and Merry coming from the kitchen as she stepped into the hall and removed her cloak and scarf.

"…Really? Really, Merry? _Talking trees_? I don't believe you."

"Oh, sure! You'll believe me about the bird spies for Saruman, fire-breathing horned beasts from underground, and fighting off Uruk-hai…but you won't buy _talking trees_?"

"I've heard of birds being trained for various things…I've heard of Uruk-hai and the Balrog creature sounds just as terrifying and real as dragons, but the whole _talking tree thing_ is what I don't buy, Merry. I mean—how do they _do it_?"

"Well, you just push away your silly little cynicism and listen carefully…"

Melonna couldn't help grinning at Merry and Gwyn's banter. Maybe her romantic imagination was taking things too far, but she couldn't help seeing all of that as playful flirting.

She then tried to recall where they were in Merry's story currently—ah, yes. The part when Merry and Pippin were running from the Uruk-hai who had abducted them to take them to the dangerous fortress of Isengard, affiliated to the land of Mordor. Melonna also found it odd how the name _Isengard_ was so close to _Isengar_, the name of Gwyn's ailing father.

Merry had taken to telling Gwyn and Melonna about the Quest. Gwyn and Melonna had been fascinated by all of the dangerous adventures and beautiful places the Fellowship had gone to, sympathetic about the demises of the wizard Gandalf—who'd actually survived—and Boromir, a man from the land of Gondor, who'd fought Uruk-hai courageously in an attempt to protect Merry and Pippin.

Melonna recalled the night Merry had told that bit—it was two nights ago, in fact. Merry had choked up considerably, and Gwyn had reached up to hold his hand. She'd told him, _"Merry…I know what it's like. To see someone you care about die in front of you. It is truly terrible…but from what you've just told me…he died nobly."_

Melonna had been surprised that Gwyn would reveal that knowledge—especially the piece that was in relation to That Dark Day. Melonna had been there, too. But she never had let it affect her as deeply as it affected Gwyn's family.

Now that they were past one of the worst parts for Merry, he could continue the story with more ease. Currently, it sounded like they were at a less sobering part of the story. Talking trees, indeed.

"…Oh, I get it. Now I understand."

Melonna's mind trailed back to the present, and she walked into the dining room adjoined to the kitchen.

"…Not being sarcastic, are you?"

"Mmm. No, I believe you." Gwyn smirked.

"Ah…ah…liar." Merry sent her a mock annoyed upraised-brow look.

"No! Really!" Gwyn grinned, raising up her hands defensively.

"Fine, suit yourself." Merry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling all the same. "And now where was I—oh, hullo, Melonna." Merry glanced over the counter where Gwyn sat to Melonna, who stood next to the oval-framed table.

"Hullo back at you two," Melonna smiled, but she couldn't help feeling the same sadness seeping into her. Merry took notice and frowned slightly. "What's wrong?" He asked while quiet Gwyn looked on with concern.

"Oh…" Melonna shook her head slowly and rubbed her right eye tiredly, "…Just…something Frodo told me. He said he'd also tell you when the timing is right."

"Oh," Merry replied, but he still seemed troubled. Melonna added on more to calm his fears, "Nobody's dying or anything, Merry. Don't worry. Actually…in fact, we should be _happy_ for him. Frodo, I mean." She finished off determinedly.

"I see," Merry repeated. He seemed slightly suspicious, but not in a bad way. Then he dismissed the topic, being the optimist he was. "Oh, yes, and we're having leftovers for lunch, like we did at elevenses. You lasses cook for more than three people in this house." He chuckled teasingly.

Gwyn bit her lip to suppress a grin, "It's not my fault that I never know when Pippin will drop in or not!"

Melonna laughed aloud. "True that. By the way, Gwyn, if you're planning on taking a nap—"

"By all of the naps she takes, I'm fairly certain she's a cat," Merry mumbled behind his cup of milk. Gwyn sent him a withering glare before refocusing on Melonna.

"Nice, Merry." Melonna sarcastically tacked on before continuing, ignoring her cousin's unabashed face, "Anyway, if you are, Gwyn, take a short one, because we're leaving early to visit Rosie for afternoon tea. She has the best teas…I know how much you love your afternoon tea, Gwyn…anyway, it's because she wants company and also some help on wedding planning. And Sam's three sisters, Daisy, May, and Marigold, will be there as well. Don't worry, though. They won't bite. Or ask questions. Or _tease_ you." She sent Merry a scathing glower, which he covered a laugh with a cough over, but she knew they all were just joking. It was one of the best parts of living with her cousin and best friend. Easy, chatty, peaceful, and joyous camaraderie.

"Sounds good," Gwyn nodded, "Thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome. Oh! And we're to stay over for dinner and supper. Merry, they'd like for you to come over, too. I think Sam told me Frodo, Diamond, and Pippin are expected to go as well."

"Sounds like a full house," Merry's eyebrows shot up, "But I'm in."

"Good," Melonna nodded once, and then sent Gwyn a gentle expression, placing a hand over her crossed arms, "You don't have to go for that, though…we'll understand."

Gwyn considered for a minute, but then smiled pleasantly, "It's fine. I will go."

"Wonderful!" Melonna clapped her hands in glee, subsequently dropping her package. It fell on Gwyn's bare white feet. "Oops." Melonna inwardly berated herself for her own absentmindedness. Gwyn bent down to pick it up, and scrutinized it, squeezing the package. "It's soft. A dress you bought?"

"Not exactly," Melonna explained, "It was given for free. And it's for you!"

"Oh…" Gwyn's eyes widened, "Thank you, Melonna, but I have plenty of Master Baggins' late mother's dresses in the closet—"

"I insist," Melonna held the package close to Gwyn's chest, "Trust me. You'll need it." she smirked slyly before finishing off too casually, "Well, go to your room and try it on!"

Gwyn narrowed her eye suspiciously as she left the room. Melonna bit her lip, suppressing a chortle.

"What's the dress look like?" Merry inquired offhandedly as he placed his empty cup in the sink.

Melonna tilted up her chin, "I'm not telling you." She mock-childishly retorted.

Merry rolled his eyes, "Fine, suit yourself. So…how'd you see Frodo? Was he in town, too?"

"Yes, but he didn't say why. I wager he was just taking a stroll. He rescued me from Sigismond Noakes." She couldn't help but smile at the memory.

Merry seemed pleased and relieved, "I knew he'd be a good support for you when you go places. Sigi try to hurt you?"

"Yes," Melonna answered reluctantly, knowing how Merry would be the protective brother figure and become angry if Melonna was threatened. Merry scowled. "I don't want you going to Hobbiton alone again, okay?"

"Okay." Melonna mumbled.

"Why'd he try to hurt you, anyway?" Merry demanded to know as he wiped off the counter, messy from blackberry preserves on biscuits from elevenses.

"Uh…" Melonna shrugged noncommittally. Merry would be very irritated to know why, so she only revealed part of the truth, "I made him mad by rejecting his inquiry to take me to the harvest festival. I also knew he probably was just doing it because he wants to make Gwyn jealous."

"Gwyn? _Jealous_?" Merry's head rose up, staring at Melonna.

She nodded, "They used to be engaged, you see, and…apparently, Sigi still is interested." She rolled her eyes, "And _he_ was the two-timer."

"…Oh." Was all Merry could say. Unbidden, his stomach rolled over and churned.

Nearly exactly the way it did when he found out Éowyn was betrothed to Faramir. Only more painful.

Did he even _think_ about Éowyn everyday now? Well—yes, but…not in _that_ way anymore. The longing, yearning feeling he had…gone. He still missed her, yes. But not so much anymore.

For how long? Two, three weeks? That feeling…_gone_? Merry could hardly believe it. And now his feelings had turned into other direction.

_What? _Her_? No, no, no. No, I won't accept it, _no_._

"Merry? _Jealous_?" Melonna's jabbing tone brought him back to the present.

"…_No_!" The words took a moment to sink in, and when it did, Merry snapped forcibly. Way too forcibly. And no, it didn't convince Melonna. She still grinned impishly at him, the obnoxious ninny. Merry scowled at her as he took the washcloth back into the sink.

"Sorry," Melonna grinned unapologetically as she went over to the cellar steps to retrieve the blackberry preserves, "I thought you were the jealous type. Hmm, then if Sigi asks Gwyn out to the harvest festival—and Illuvatar forbid, I vow—it won't bother you? Good, I'm glad."

Merry's stomach clenched at the thought. But he prevailed and lifted his chin, determined to change the topic, "Do you know when I'm expected to arrive at the Cottons'? And what they're making for both meals?"

Melonna returned from the cellar and skipped to a half at the top of the steps. She gazed at Merry with a shamelessly evil smile. _If she wasn't a girl, I'd push her down the stairs… _

But she answered, "Five-oh-clock, and I believe we're having pork chops for dinner and mutton chops for supper."

"Mmm, delicious. All right, I'll be there. Want me to bring something?"

"No. But please leave your annoying jokes behind."

"Ha-ha, funny. Now get my lunch ready, woman!"

Melonna feigned outraged indignation as she expressively mimicked Merry's demands, slipping back into the cellar to gather more food.

Just then, Gwyn returned, still in her pink skirt and blouse and white apron. She smiled at Merry, "The dress was so very lovely—orange with black waistline and cuffs and collar with a golden and red pattern of leaves. Orange is my favorite after red."

"_Gah_, do you have to describe the dress to him?" The two heard Melonna's dismayed outburst from the cellar doorway. Gwyn's eyes twitched as she stared at Melonna as if she'd spawned into an Ent.

Realizing her blunder, Melonna straightened and grinned slightly. "Never mind," she repeated calmly and casually, sauntering over to the counter with leftover duck in a pot.

Merry sat at the counter, watching the lasses prepare lunch. He then wondered how Frodo and Melonna's relationship was going—it was definitely better, this is knew…but, would it hurt to fan the flames?

And, yes, revenge was sweet.

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_**A/N: I originally planned on ending this chapter with other suspenseful beat, but then decided to spare you readers the hair-yanking for now. Trust me, I know it's painful. :/ ;) You all deserve a fluffy chapter…before other downward spiral in the next chapter! *Wicked laugh.* I thank you, guys, and muchas love!**_

_**IMPORTANT: Profile. Poll. You know the drill. ;) **_

_**- Heidi Erickson**_


	15. Bad Dreams Came True

_**Chapter Fifteen: Bad Dreams Came True**_

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___**A/N: Well…sixteen days later and three reviews short of our deal. What did I tell you all, hmm? The next update will be on Monday, July 18**__**th**__**—as long as you DON'T review. ;)**_

_**Many thanks to LadyDoroAnne and estie793 for reviewing! :)**_

_**And now, a word from our favorite gangrel creature, Gollum…**_

"_**Not many nice and ssssweet reviewssss! Nassssty reviewerssss betrayed ussss! We ought tear up more chapterssss and make sssstupid reviewersssss cry! But if reviewersss review, we give them nice updatessss, yessss? Gollum! Gollum! We lovesss and hatesss our reviewers! Yesss, yesss, we do, Precioussss! Gollum! Gollum!"**_

_**LOL, no, honestly, I love you all to death. ;) I just don't love it when you don't review. :( But I understand that some of you are very busy, so it's okay. :)**_

_**Still—if you have lost interest in this story, please take it off your alert list. Trust me, we both will feel better if you do. :)**_

_**Also, some of you may not review because of logging in issues (I hate it, too ;P), so that's okay. You can always leave an anonymous review; I have that enabled. :) No logging in necessary! :D**_

_**Muchas love to you all!**_

_**This chapter is unbeta'd, so forgive me for any mistakes you've seen. :)**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__** I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**_

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__"_Gwynnie…"_

_A breathy whisper of her name brought her attention. Gwyn looked away from the raindrop-stained window and faced her cedar double-door entrance._

"_Gwynnie…"_

_As if in a trance, Gwyn walked forward slowly, lulled and drawn by that sweet, familiar voice._

_Her feet padded across the thick, elegant and then met with cool wood as she left her bedroom. She walked down the dark, wide hallway of her large hobbit-hole._

_Down the hallway were the doors to outside. One door was open a crack, revealing a white light coming from outside. Gwyn reached for the door, opened it, and she felt an invisible force whisk her away to other place. She jumped, startled to find herself on the dark streets of Newbury. It was nighttime._

"…_Ada?" she whispered nervously. She knew that voice was Ada's. A whirl of air spun around her fiercely, making her shut her eyes and shiver. _

_She opened her eyes again, and she found herself standing in a leaf pile, scattered along the base of the hill located beyond the mouth of the woods next to Newbury. The darkness in the forest would have been so dense if there wasn't a full moon overhead that peeked through the branches. Gwyn stepped out of the leaf pile, glancing around anxiously._

"_Gwynnie…"_

"_Ada?" Gwyn replied to the voice instantly. "Ada?" She called out, her voice echoing through the forest. But only a howl of wind answered._

"_Gwyn." A cold, wet hand suddenly gripped her arm, and Gwyn yelped, whirling around. But the hand on her arm was gone, and no one was in sight._

"_Adaldrida Whitfoot!" Gwyn's voice was panic-stricken and annoyed, "You'd better come out here right now. This isn't funny."_

_Just then, another roar of wind rattled Gwyn's bones to the core, and she shut her eyes._

_The next thing she saw was a sparkling creek, reflecting the late afternoon sun. The grass and myriad of flowers of different colors and types rustled beneath her feet. The banks of the creek were warm and soft. Over to the right distance of the creek was a mill, continuously wheeling round and round, providing clean, fresh water for the Bucklanders._

_Gwyn's stomach sank to her toes, and yet she couldn't recall why that scene brought up dark, hazy, unseen thoughts in her heads. Feeling confused and disconcerted, Gwyn began to turn to flee the scene—and then a voice came to her attention._

"_Gwyn."_

_Gwyn turned around again—and gasped at the sight of a pallid, wrinkle-faced young girl standing in the middle of creek. The water rose up to her waist, but Gwyn could clearly see the mud-stained yellow dress that Ada always wore for swimming. _

_Ada's lovely tawny hair hung in limp curls, and her deep brown eyes looked dead. There was no sign of life in them, and yet this girl breathed and moved. Ada waded through the water slowly and climbed up the bank. Her pale arms hung limply against her sides, and her feet were dirty and blue from the cold floor of the creek._

_Gwyn finally remembered. And Ada could tell—for she responded in a dark, flat voice, "Good. You remember."_

"_Wh—what?" Gwyn stammered, trembling in fear. _No, no, no, it can't be. Ada is dead. She has been dead for over three years.

_Ada seemed hurt, the first emotional expression she held. "Gwynnie, how could you forget? How can you go through day by day—laughing and spending time with your 'friends'…while my body is under the ground. And it's because of _you_."_

_Gwyn shook her head. This Ada wasn't real. Ada wouldn't be this way. "You're not my sister!" Gwyn cried out, "My sister would be happy if I finally did start to move on. She wouldn't want me to grieve like I did over all those years."_

_Ada tilted her head, and her gray, dripping mouth curved into a sad, cryptic smile, "No, I'm not."_

"_What?" Gwyn snapped, befuddled._

_Ada's eyebrows rose slightly. "Happy. I am not happy where I am—because everyone I love has betrayed me. Especially you, Gwynra."_

"_You're not here anymore, Ada," Gwyn murmured in a choked-up voice, "You've _died_. You are in a better place now."_

"_Because of you." Ada frowned slightly._

"_I didn't mean to, I promise," Gwyn pleaded, tears filling in her eyes. Fear and anxiety piled up higher and higher in her, and grief came back in full force._

"_But you did." Ada replied, shaking her head in melancholia. "And all because of one mistake on my part. You were spiteful and jealous and angry, Gwyn. You didn't think."_

"_I didn't know the mill would _kill you_!" Gwyn half-shrieked, far tears rolling down her cheeks._

_Ada's eyes flickered, as spooky as she seemed, and she inquired darkly, "I wasn't the only one, was I?"_

_Gwyn shuddered, breathing heavily. And then a freezing hand placed on her shoulder. Gwyn gasped and jerked away, looking up to face the wan, grey face of Ilberic Jumpswell._

_Ilberic smiled bitterly. His dark red hair was matted with river-weed and mud. "I can't imagine how my sister can possibly look at you, much less still spend time with you," he muttered hoarsely, "Only Donnamira has betrayed my memory—she associates herself with my murderer."_

"_No," Gwyn cried, "I'm not a murderer. Please, I'm not!"_

_Ada stepped up closer to her, frowning with determination. "You may have not intended it, but your taking us all to the creek on that day led to Ilberic's and my deaths. If you had not decided to, we all would have been still here."_

_Ilberic leaned so close to Gwyn that she could smell his frigid, fishy breath. "You are a vengeful, jealous hobbit lass, and you deserve every strike of hate and tale of rumor about you that had erupted in Buckland since that day."_

_Ada snorted slightly, a mocking grin pinned on her ghostly face. "Those fools in High Hay thought you were a witch. Imagine that."_

"_And you are…in a way." Ilberic smiled grimly._

"_The hobbit lad who has set eyes on you…do you honestly think he would still care for you after he finds out?" Ada sneered._

_Shaken to the core, Gwyn took backward steps, but Ilberic and Ada kept advancing on her._

"_Merry wouldn't!" Gwyn snapped furiously, trying not to be intimidated any longer. "He is loyal and forgiving."_

_Ilberic scoffed, "Your infatuation with him has you blinded."_

_Ada reached out and touched her cheek, a dark, falsely compassionate expression crossing her face, "It's not too late, Gwyn. Turn back now. Leave him—before everything goes crashing down around you. Better live in pain than die alone."_

"_No," Gwyn shook her head, protesting. But Ilberic and Ada took her arms and pulled her towards the creek, and they began chanting. "Wake up, Gwyn. You are having a nightmare. Wake up, Gwyn, wake up, Gwyn, come back to us, come on…"_

"…_Gwyn_!" A hand patted her cheek over and over, and other hand was on her forehead, and a third was on her left arm. Gwyn shook her head slightly, her eyes flickering under her eyelids. She felt cold and wet, as if Ada and Ilberic had dragged her into the creek.

"Open your eyes, Gwyn," a commanding yet kind voice beckoned her.

Gwyn struggled up open her eyes, and when she saw Merry gazing down at her, she choked back a sob.

_A dream—it was all a bad dream…_

When tears filled Gwyn's eyes and she started sobbing, all Merry could do was lift her up slightly, sit on the edge of her bed, and cradle Gwyn in his arms. Her head lay on his chest, and he stroked her left upper arm comfortingly. Melonna sat on the other side, looking on with deep concern.

Eventually, Gwyn's sobs subsided, and all that came from her were faint little whimpers for every few seconds. Merry glanced up at Melonna questioningly. Melonna shook her head sadly. "I think she was dreaming about her sister and friend."

Surprised, Merry looked back down at Gwyn's wan, damp face. "I didn't know she had a sister," he muttered.

"She died a little over three years ago," Melonna explained, "Her name was Adaldrida."

"Ada…" Gwyn gasped softly, but her eyes still were closed. Her head lolled over slightly. "I'm _sorry_…" she whispered.

Merry shook his head slightly, wondering at what just had happened. He'd woken up to the sound of Gwyn shouting _"You're not my sister!"_

At first, Merry had just shrugged it off and dozed back to sleep, and then Gwyn's piteous cry of _"Merry—!"_ had gotten him out of bed, wondering what the heck was going on. Then he had seen Gwyn thrashing around in bed, and he'd gotten Melonna to help him wake up Gwyn. It had been difficult; Gwyn was a heavy, troubled sleeper.

"Who was her friend?" Merry queried.

"Ilberic Jumpswell. He was the mayor's son. I think Gwyn's mentioned his sister to you once—Mira."

"I remember," Merry nodded solemnly. He then glanced down at Gwyn. In impulse, he touched her face gently, stroking her cheek, damp from tears and sweat. He admired the smoothness of her skin.

"I'll get a washcloth for her. Is she overly warm?" Melonna announced, rising from the bed carefully.

"No, she's cold. I'll go, too," Merry replied softly and started to set Gwyn back in bed.

But then he heard a strangled cry from her, and suddenly she was clutching to his tan sleep tunic almost desperately. "No, don't go. Please don't go, Merry," she pleaded in a shaky voice, but her eyes were shut and her face was nearly buried in his tunic.

"I'll get some tea as well," Melonna decided aloud, gazing at her friend with worry. "You'd better stay with her, Merry." With that, she left the room quietly.

Merry settled closer to the headboard, gently pulling Gwyn up and keeping her nestled between his left arm and chest. "Gwyn?" He spoke up cautiously.

After three or four seconds, Gwyn's grip on his tunic loosened and she opened her eyes once again. She glanced about, up at Merry, and realized how close she was to him. But she liked the feeling. She never had felt so safe, so warm, and so _protected_ in a long, long time. So she just stayed there. "I'm sorry I woke you two up," she mumbled.

"It's all right. You needed to be woken up as well. You were having a troubled dream." Merry responded in a warm, reassuring tone. "Melonna will get a warm cloth and tea for you."

Gwyn nodded and remained silent, relaxing in Merry's arms. She wondered if Merry would prefer it if she pulled away, but frankly, she was too tired to. Still, her mind and body was feeling more alert by the minute.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwyn stiffened. "What?" She inaudibly answered.

"The dream…do you want to, uh, discuss it? You don't have to."

"Oh." Gwyn blinked. She remembered her dream—Ada mocking her about Merry.

"…_Do you honestly think he would still care for you after he finds out?"_

Gwyn wavered, but then determination set in.

_Merry _is_ loyal. Merry _is_ forgiving._

Gwyn gathered in a shaky breath, wondering idly yet frantically on how to start. "She wasn't a bad hobbit," Gwyn shifted to the right to be able to face Merry at a more comfortable angle. Merry shifted to his side and rested his elbow over the headboard, gazing at Gwyn attentively.

"She was nothing like the girl I saw in my dream," Gwyn insisted, "Ada was kind and sweet and caring. She wouldn't hurt a fly, and she loved children. She had a gentle touch, and most of all—she always forgave. I'm nothing like her."

"Mmm." Merry's brow knit together slightly, but he kept silent.

"Ada was my younger sister of four years," Gwyn continued, "And all of my life that I can remember—I always had been under her shadow. She had curly tawny hair and the darkest brown eyes. Her skin was nicely tanned and freckled, unlike my 'pasty' complexion. She took after Papa—who had been one of the most chased-after gentlehobbits in his day. Me? I was pretty in my own right, I suppose—but it was always Ada's personality that won Newbury over."

"Ada was the perfect hobbit lass, while I was the loner who preferred to climb trees and fish and swim. I…I drove people away slightly because I was…sharp-tongued, snobby, and vain. I constantly looked down at everyone, thinking I was better than them, all because of the fact that I was the mayor's daughter."

Gwyn laughed bitterly before continuing, "I was like that because I was so insecure, always comparing myself to Ada—Ada's patient, I'm snappy, Ada's sociable, I'm self-centered…it seemed as if the only person who actually liked me was Papa. Cec, too, I suppose. Mira and Swan were my friends as well, but at the time Mira was more focused on Cec, and Swan was a newcomer before things fell apart for my family."

Merry hated to bring it up, but he felt like it was necessary. "Melonna told me…Sigismond Noakes was your fiancé."

"Yes," Gwyn admitted slowly, avoiding his gaze. Merry wondered if Gwyn still had feelings for Sigismond.

"He was," Gwyn went on, "And it was a horrible union. Everyone hated the idea—they knew of Sigi's reputation. Some even told me so and warned that I'd regret it. And I did." Gwyn swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "He was one of the reasons all of this happened. Ada…made a mistake. She…she was…"

Gwyn shrugged, waving her hands feebly, "I have no idea of why she did it. Swan came up to me one evening and asked me if Sigi really was my fiancé. I told her yes, and she frowned and asked why then he was laughing and kissing Ada from behind my papa's medical building."

Gwyn looked up at Merry to see his surprised, disgusted expression. She sighed and spoke again, "At first, I was confused and didn't believe her. I told Swan to go home and I'd investigate. But it turns out she was right—I found Sigi and Ada together in the back of town. I was so furious and hurt. I slapped Sigi and called him the worst of names, and I just glared at Ada and told her to go home. She was crying—she was so guilty and embarrassed, Merry."

"I spent the rest of the evening crying in bed. Ada tried to get through to me, but I gave her the silent treatment for the rest of the night and all day afterwards. During that day, Papa, Cec, and Griffin were so supportive of me. Even Mama." Gwyn admitted, recalling her surprise on that day when Mama hugged her and assured her that Ada would never, ever do it again.

"Apparently, Ada had confessed of her transgression to them. She even went to Sigi's home and told him she wouldn't be sneaking around with him again. She then begged for my forgiveness…" Gwyn shook her head, recalling that dark hour, "…But that wasn't until after Griffin, my vengeful twin, had convinced me that Sigi and Ada should learn a lesson."

Merry's eyes darkened with wonder and wariness. He nodded, prodding her on. Just then, Melonna reentered the room with a steaming cup of tea. The aroma of lemon and honey assailed her senses, and she accepted the teacup gratefully. Melonna sat in the chair across from the bed and listened intently.

"Our plan was really just a prank. In fact, we weren't planning on telling them why or that it was a lesson to be taught. I…I just wanted Sigi and Ada to feel the same way I did—as if I was being stifled and being stuck in a cold, airless cellar…when I found out. So Griffin and I invited Ada and Sigi to go swimming. But they invited Melonna and Ilberic as well, so…"

"Anyway, the plan was to lure them to play close to the mill, and then I would be at the top and shove down the wheel on top of Sigi and Ada, and Griffin, of course, would rescue them. We just wanted them to feel the pain for a minute or so. But…everything went wrong," Gwyn gulped, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Merry sent her a sympathetic look and handed her the washcloth.

Wiping her face, Gwyn spoke again in a shaky voice, "Griffin was fooling around with Sigi, trying to get him riled up enough to chase him down underwater. Ada followed to stop them from having a fight. Then…Ilberic followed her."

"A moment later, Sigi and Griffin emerged, but Ada and Ilberic had not. When I had pushed the wheel over them to temporarily block them from escaping…their bodies must've…gotten the wheel…stuck. It wouldn't budge." Gwyn burst into sobs. "An accident. The biggest mistake I ever made in my life. If there was anything I could do—_anything_—to change what I did—I'd do it. _Anything_."

Merry moved closer to her, pulling her to him. "Hey. Gwyn, I'm…I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He shook his head, feeling horrified and saddened by Gwyn's story. He looked over to Melonna, who had red-rimmed eyes.

Gwyn composed herself weakly and struggled to say more, "Gri—Griffin and Sigi went back under to help them up. But…Ada's body was crushed under the wheel—she had died almost instantly, and Ilberic was losing air. We managed to get both of them out…but by nightfall, Ilberic died in Papa's clinic. The funeral for Ada was two days later, and Ilberic's the day after that. Within a week, all of Newbury knew who were responsible for Ada and Ilberic's death—Griffin and me. Sigi had told everybody."

"That deceitful brute!" Melonna spoke up shrilly. "He said Gwyn and Griffin did it on purpose. He never said why. He just put a bad mark on her and Griffin's names—saying they were mindless, psychotic murderers! There isn't a day that goes by when I—I just don't want to forgive him for what he said!"

Merry was shocked and dismayed. "And the villagers believed him?"

Melonna nodded, her eyes laced with bitterness. "They were so grieved over the deaths of their two favorite hobbit tweenagers. They wanted a reason for their deaths as soon as possible—to avenge their deaths. And it had to be poor Griffin and Gwyn. Now, I do not condone their actions—it was a foolish, immature, and spiteful prank, plain and simple. But Illuvatar, the Father of All, would never want any living being to turn against each other for one or more wrongs. If they did—well…I suppose that Ring from Mordor would've won. I've heard only half of Merry's side of the story…but I do believe that forgiveness must have been one of the great facets in winning the war for freedom in Middle-earth. Am I right, Merry?"

Merry nodded, proud of his cousin's words. It was a sure sign of her maturity. "Long ago, men and Elves turned against each other…for some unknown reason to me…but in the Battle of Helm's Deep—which I wasn't at, so I don't know all of the details—a legion of Elves came to help the three hundred men fight against ten thousand Orcs and Uruk-hai."

"And other story of forgiveness is when Aragorn led the King of the Dead and his ghost men to fight in the Pelennor Fields. Then Aragorn released them from their curse that Isildur had inflicted upon them years ago for some…cowardly act, I believe."

Gwyn smiled sadly. "Mayor Jumpswell isn't so forgiving. And neither is my mama. I killed her favorite lass, after all."

Melonna and Merry exchanged pitying gazes, making Gwyn feel even worse. She looked away and set her teacup on the dresser. "Look…if you want to turn me out, go ahead. I'll just—"

"Hush," Merry quickly placed a hand under her chin, tilting it up so she had to meet his gaze.

He gave her a firm, yet tender look. "It's in the past. You've clearly learned. And no matter what dream Ilberic or Ada…or the rest of Newbury may think…you should move on. It's what Ada would want…isn't it?"

Gwyn swallowed against a lump in her throat, but she couldn't push away the aching in her heart.

"I'd forgive you." Merry finished. The honesty was evident in his eyes.

"And you don't need some from me—because you know I already have." Melonna tacked on gently.

Gwyn glanced at her briefly, and then back at Merry, who was just pulling away and rising. On impulse, Gwyn reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She barely heard his surprised huff as she buried her face into his golden curls. A second later, cautiously, Merry returned the gesture, encircling her narrow waist with his muscled arms. He reveled in the scent of her cherry blossom-scented hair.

"Thank you, Merry." She murmured against his ear as she pulled back. She settled back under the covers, staring up at Merry and Melonna gratefully.

Melonna smiled simply, patted her leg under the covers, and left the room, mouthing _Sleep well_ over her shoulder.

Merry still seemed surprised at Gwyn's uncharacteristic embrace, but he nevertheless nodded at her, walking backwards. "You're welcome, Gwyn. Do sleep well—no more bad dreams, you hear?"

Gwyn smiled slightly. "I'll try."

Merry smiled back, carrying the candle with him. He slowly drew the door to a close, but not before he sent Gwyn a final look. The lovely dark-haired lass shifted under the covers, her eyes closed. Merry had looked into her eyes closer before—and he'd noticed they weren't black, but a deep, midnight sky color of blue.

Merry retired to his bedroom with a loud exhale and a weary flop backwards on his bed. He pushed his arm across his eyes and grunted.

What was _happening _to him?

* * *

Frodo cocked his head slightly, watching Melonna yawn for the fifth time. They were spending afternoon tea together at Bag End, and then Frodo would let Melonna watch him write more of his semi-autobiography. And in the fifteen minutes she'd been here, she'd barely said more than six words. Not that he minded the quiet—but he'd taken a liking to Melonna's talkativeness, so now her silence was unsettling.

"Melonna?" Frodo reached over cautiously and touched her hand, resisting the tingle that went up his arm.

The blonde lass gave a start. "Oh," she shook her head as if to recover her distracted senses, "I'm sorry, Frodo, I'm just tired. I'm afraid I'm bad company today."

"It is all right," Frodo reassured her with some concern, "You should go home and take a nap—I would not mind. In fact, if you are that tired, you may retire to my guest room for the afternoon."

"No, no, I'm fine," Melonna smiled sleepily, an expression that Frodo found oddly sweet. "I'm sure you…appreciate…the s-s-silence." She finished between yawns.

"Did you not sleep well last night?" Frodo inquired, observing her worriedly.

"Well…" Melonna closed her eyes, letting her body sink a little in the large, cushioned chair, "…Around two in the morning, Gwyn had a nightmare. Merry and I had to wake up; her dream was so bad and she was really out of it. Finally, when she woke up, Merry stayed with her and I got the poor lass some tea and a warm washcloth—she was trembling and she was sweaty and so cold." She shook her head and lamented, "Life has been hard on her."

"I see," Frodo replied. He could relate to Gwyn. Some nights he would wake up shaking and sweating, and relieved that whatever dream he had was actually just a reminder of his past. Sméagol-Gollum, Shelob, Mt. Doom, Gandalf's fall…he felt sympathy towards Gwyn.

"She told us everything." Melonna spoke up again, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Gwyn was momentarily afraid Merry would throw her out. But he didn't. I know he wouldn't. Merry isn't like that. He told Gwyn that it was all in the past. She should move on. He's right, I believe."

_Am I moving on…by going to the Grey Havens?_ Frodo pondered silently. But he merely nodded. "I believe that as well. I…I have nightmares, too," he admitted slowly, "So I can understand her situation. Whatever was in her past…was there. It is not now, and nor will it be in the future, lest she chooses to repeat history."

Melonna managed a sad, yet impressed smile. "You speak so very wisely, Master Baggins."

Frodo didn't warm up to compliments very much; he usually felt self-conscious about them, but he just smiled appreciatively at his friend. "Gandalf the White told me that…before Sam, Merry, Pippin, and I headed back here. I suppose it was his way of saying 'don't dwell on the past'."

"Speaking of which…how far along are you now in your book?" Melonna asked almost abruptly. "I remember the last thing I read—you, Sam, and Gollum were just about to climb Cirith Ungol."

"Hmm, yes," Frodo answered, recalling where he'd left off, "Oh, I think I haven't written further than that part. You'd gotten busy with other things, so I decided to wait until you had the time to come over to watch me write."

"Oh, thank you, you didn't have to do that," Melonna straightened up and blushed, seemingly secretly pleased.

Frodo inclined his head, and then a thought concerning Gwyn's situation appeared in his head. "I apologize if you don't wish to discuss Gwyn further—but I couldn't help wondering…why do you think she had that nightmare? Given what I've seen from her in the past month, she's become a more open, happier person. I could be wrong—but I do guess that maybe…something just…triggered the dream."

Melonna's eyebrows shot up in consideration. "Yes. Merry and I actually asked her about that this morning at second breakfast. Gwyn admitted that the reason she takes a nap nearly every day is because she doesn't sleep well at night. She admitted that she usually just lies in bed for hours and hours, staring at the ceiling."

Frodo was surprised, and found himself relating more and more to Gwyn. During his Quest, he'd faced the problem of sleeplessness as well.

"And then…she said that…the night we were at Rosie's home for dinner and supper, she'd just watched Sam's three sisters, all sitting together and chattering loudly and gaily…it reminded her of her and her sister."

"I didn't know Gwyn had a sister," Frodo commented mildly.

Melonna nodded, looking down at her feet. "She died in July of three years ago. I shouldn't say much…but the reason it haunts Gwyn so much is because she finds herself and Griffin responsible for Ada's death."

"Oh…I'm sorry." Frodo murmured. No wonder Gwyn was so troubled. To carry the weight of a loss on her shoulders…just like he carried the Ring around his neck.

Melonna sighed. "Merry and I told her last night…that she should move on from that. It wasn't her fault, really." Melonna glanced up. "Well, it was…but Sigismond Noakes started all of it. If he hadn't cheated on Gwyn with Ada—none of this would have happened." The resentment in Melonna's bright blue eyes shone.

Frodo's lips thinned in disapproval. "Hobbits like that, Melonna…you have to watch out for them. I wouldn't want to see you hurt." He blurted out.

Melonna glanced up at him in surprise. "Yes…you're right." She responded softly, lowering her gaze to the floor.

Frodo watched Melonna silently for a few minutes, and then he stood up, waiting for Melonna to follow him to the study.

Time for something to get their mind off the issues of the present.

* * *

Cec Whitfoot stepped into his unconventional hobbit home, shivering from the cold outside. "Mother, Father, I'm home." He called.

"Hush, son!" Mother snapped as she emerged from her and Father's bedroom. "Your father is slumbering."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Cec apologized quickly in a quieter tone, "How is he?"

Mother heaved a sigh, fiddling with her hands. "No better, but no worse. Cecilius, have you yet figured out a cure?"

"No, Mother," Cec shook his head regrettably. "I think you'd better sit down for this, in fact."

Mother frowned, but complied, moving across the room to sit on the dining-room table.

"Mother, I believe there is nothing we can do." Cec announced mournfully. "Father will die."

Mother seemed shaken, but she held up her guard. "How can you be so certain?"

"Because of what I've observed, Mama," Cec explained carefully, "His body is literally decaying day by day—yellowed skin and eyes, change in bodily fluid functions and color, itching, fever, weight loss…I believe those are the signs of a decaying body. I've done all I could in the past year, Mother…I just cannot do it. This requires some kind of miracle, and we don't have one. It's hopeless."

"So I see." A shaky, weak voice came from the bedroom door.

Mother gasped to see Father standing right there, out of bed for the first time in months. "Isengar! You should be in bed," she scolded, scurrying over to him.

The weak hobbit shook his head and slowly walked over to Cec. Cec rose to help Father comfortably in the only cushioned chair in the house. Isengar Whitfoot gave out a slow sigh of relief as he rested.

"Son…" he glanced up at Cec.

"Yes, Father?"

"Have you…have you heard from Gwynnie-girl? Last I heard…Malva said…she was hiding out…somewhere. I haven't…seen her in a month."

"No, Father—" Cec lied at first, but just seeing his father's frail, thin body, he confessed, "Yes…three weeks ago, Gwyn came here—to my clinic, I mean—"

"Gwynra was here?" Mother barked sharply, looking alarmed.

"Hush, Malva," Father chided, "Go on, Cec."

"She was initially going to leave her current hiding place and go somewhere else, but then the person who was letting her be a guest in his home came to get her. Anyway, she did have news for us…" Cec drew in a deep breath, "Griffin is alive."

Mother turned a paler shade of white, and Father sat there with an astounded expression on his face. "How…can…that…be?" Father rasped. With a strangled sob, Mother sank down on the arm of Father's chair. Father weakly lifted a hand over Mother's comfortingly.

"In a nutshell—Griffin was in Hobbiton, where Gwyn is residing currently, and he attacked the home Gwyn was in. He was allegedly trying to protect her, but Gwyn already is safe. That night was the only time she saw him since, Gwyn reported. Gwyn also said he looked really thin and underfed, but he was still strong—and bitter and paranoid as ever."

Mother placed a hand across her mouth, clearly fighting back tears. Cec's father inhaled a wheezing breath, and nodded slightly. "He's alive. That's all that matters right now. Over those years, I have prayed that our son would be alive…and he is. Thank Illuvatar."

His father's eyes flickered, and he suddenly asked, "And Gwynnie—where is she? Who is she living with, I mean?"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck," Cec answered as calmly as possibly, ignoring the disapproving glint in his mother's eyes. "Melonna Goldworthy lives there as well, so the living conditions are very decent. I believe Gwyn is safe there."

"Good," Cec's father nodded, smiling in relief. But Mother frowned suspiciously. "Brandybuck…isn't that a wealthy hobbit? Politician type?"

Cec suppressed an impatient sigh. "Yes, Mother. I think he is the son of Saradoc Brandybuck, current master of Buckland—"

"Current master of Buckland!" Mother almost snarled, jumping from the chair and pacing around the room. Cec observed his mother's manner of behavior—she hadn't paced around the room in a fit of anxiety or outrage in a few years.

"Why, 'Scattergold' Brandybuck has done nothing to help _us_—fellow _Bucklanders_—in our time of dire need! Instead, when my daughter died, and the twins' reputations were destroyed, all Scattergold did was turn his back! When I wrote him a letter begging to come to Newbury to end those folks' dispute against us—he wrote back, saying he didn't want to get involved! What kind of pigheaded official of the blasted Shire is he?" Mother ranted on and on, while Cec closed his mouth and looked down and Father looked on with concern and yet reproach.

"Malva…" Father leaned forward, gazing at his wife with compassion and chiding, "You know he is just like any other typical hobbit. Just like us. We hobbits were never good with handling politics. Our law enforcement and government systems are very meager and pacifist, and yet strong—and we use that significant strength to ward off enemies from outside of the Shire—and not so very often within. Whatever Newbury has against us…is their issue, not the Master's."

"Father is right, Mama," Cec spoke up in a soothing voice, hoping to alleviate his mother's anger. And even now, Father's wise words had calmed down Mother. She rubbed her arms and went over to Father, and placed a hand against his cheek. "You are right, love. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven, my cherry blossom," Father smiled and placed a light kiss on Mama's fingers. The corners of Cec's mouth curved lightly. He could see a future like that, but not so dark. With Mira, he wanted a happier future. But currently, it didn't seem possible.

He stepped outside, observing the darkened streets. A light, flurry snowfall was coming down. The first snow of the season, and it was barely mid-November.

He glanced across the road, to Mira's large hobbit-hole. Longingly, he idly wondered how Gwyn was doing. Was she and Merry falling in love? Did he treat her right? Was she _happy_?

"I'm sure she's happy," Mother commented as if she read his mind. She came up next to him and shut the door. Cec glanced down at her, staring questioningly. Mother sighed in mild exasperation. "Oh, of course your father is back in bed, Cecilius. I wouldn't leave him alone in his chair for anything."

"I'm sorry, Mother."

"Don't apologize. I understand." She spoke sharply, but Cec took no offense, His mother just had her mind on everything…sad.

"Mother?" Cec hesitantly asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you….do you miss her? Honestly."

Mother blinked and furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes up at him. "Do I miss who? Speak up, son."

Cec sighed. "Gwyn."

Mother leaned back, an incredulous expression crossing her aged features. "Of course I do, son. What kind of question is that?"

"She thinks you hate her," Cec replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, I don't." Mother replied firmly. "I…I admit I haven't been the best mother to her. Harsh, even. But do I wish ill of Gwynra? No, of course not. I raised her, didn't I?" Suddenly, Mother's voice broke and tears filled up in her midnight blue eyes.

"That you did, Mother. You did well." Cec assured her softly, wrapping and arm around her bony shoulders. "She just wanted more of your love and attention than discipline was all. And right now…concerning our situation in Newbury…all we need is time…and faith."

* * *

_**A/N: Well, can you believe it? We are over halfway through the story now! :)**_

_**TRIVIA: I was rereading **__**The Return of the King**__** the other day and was dumbstruck at how I never really noticed that the mayor of the Shire/Michel Delving's name was Will Whitfoot—paralleling the fact that Gwyn's father was a former mayor! And now I know why the name of Whitfoot popped into my mind when I first concocted this fic… ;)**_

_**READ THIS! ;D Poll. Please? :)**_


	16. Matchmakers

_**Chapter Sixteen: Matchmakers**_

* * *

**A/N: Chapter Sixteen—enjoy! ;) Lots of fluff before more drama. ;D**

**MY PLAN: I have four chapters left to write in ****Just Merry****, so I really, really hope I can finish the story in six weeks' time. And then…well, don't expect any new stories from me during the college months. Probably one-shots, yes, but not stories—UNLESS I find my "me time" in college actually more than I expect, then I may try. Keep your fingers crossed. :)**

**I decided to break my deal of five-reviews-following-an-immediate-update because after reading my past two author's notes, I thought I sounded a little…bossy. :/ So I apologize to you readers, in case I did come off as pushy or demanding. :/ All I ask for is reviews, you know? :) But I really shouldn't make a big deal out of them, you know? ;P So go on and read. Enjoy! :)**

**Shout-outs. :) Haven't done that in a while… XD**

** estie793 – It's okay that you didn't review five times—I actually thought you were kind of joking about that. ;D LOL. I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter; and I'm glad that you're warming up to Mother Whitfoot a bit! :) I think I've really improved on Gwyn's back-story. :D And it never fails to please me about your newfound love for Frodo (and Frodo+Melonna). Haha. XD Can't wait to hear from you soon! :) (And thank you for reviewing twice! XD)**

** Rachel – So I finally "meet" estie793's famous cousin! ;) Yes, Estie has told me a little about you…horror stories, mostly. Just kidding! ;) I'm SO happy you reviewed! :D It's fine that you didn't review in the past; really, but I'm pleased to hear your say on this! :D Yeah, Gwyn bothers me in the first few chapters, too. ;P I was a "newbie" on FF at the time, but I think I've improved on this story, according to my reviewers. :) I know Merry's canon interest is really Estella Bolger, but I failed to recall that at the time I got the idea of Gwyn… :P Oooh, are you a Frodo fan? :D LOL, I absolutely adore him, too…and we'll see about the Grey Havens thing. Muahahaha! ;) Make your kidney die…? o_O Oh, my word, sometimes I wish I knew you cousins in real life. XD LOL. I hope you'll review again! :)**

** LadyDoroAnne – I knew you'd been waiting for this chapter for a long time, so I was very excited to hear your reaction. :D Thank you for your positive outlook! Looking forward to hearing from you again soon! :D**

**Thank you to my beta reader mecherry! :)**

**WARNING: References to drugs and alcohol.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

* * *

A week after the nightmare incident, Gwyn was back on her slow journey to moving on. Merry and Melonna gently and patiently advised her just to take it one day at a time. She didn't have to go "overboard" with social obligations, she could go off anywhere alone as often as she liked, and most of all—she could trust Merry and Melonna on anything—_anything_ at all. And then everything was back to normal.

Except for more of the jelly-kneed, heart-thumping, or sweaty-palmed reactions Merry and Gwyn had each time they approached each other alone or touched each other. And because of that matter, they avoided physical touch as much as possible.

One afternoon, between lunch and afternoon tea, Melonna had gone off to Frodo's for afternoon tea and writing, and Merry and Gwyn took a stroll around his harvested corn crop. It was a cloudy, windy day, but when they were bundled up and distracted from the cold by their conversations, they were just fine.

"Bet you can't wait for more snow, eh?" Merry grinned at her, knowing of her love for winter.

Gwyn smiled back. "Yes. That snowfall last week excited me—I was disappointed it just melted away quickly the next day."

"Well, we needn't wait any longer. We usually expect our first big snowfall shortly after the Autumn's End Harvest Festival next Saturday—the last Saturday of November."

"Hmm." Gwyn acknowledged, "Are you going, by the way?"

Merry smirked, "Only if Frodo agrees to take Melonna."

Gwyn laughed outright. "And has he agreed?"

"No," Merry sighed dramatically, "In fact, when I asked him for the third time in the past week—yesterday was the third time—he just rolled his eyes and slammed the door at the words 'take Melonna'."

Gwyn shook her head, grinning, "If he likes her so much—why, don't they have afternoon teas nearly every day now—then why doesn't he just ask her out?"

"He's a hermit crab," Merry nodded dismally, as if he was a physician diagnosing Frodo with a disease, "Kind of like you."

Gwyn rolled her eyes and swatted his chest with the back of her hand, biting back a grin. "Funny. You know, maybe I could help." She suggested impishly.

Merry raised his eyebrows, smiling widely, "I'd like that. Think you can go over later today and…figure out a way to…you know?"

Gwyn nodded, her dark blue eyes twinkling. "Just…why are you doing this, anyway? Is matchmaking a hobby of yours?" She asked teasingly.

Merry chuckled, "No, but I admit Pippin and I had done our share before the Quest—mostly on Frodo. We saw how many hobbit lasses fawned over Frodo, and, well…I just don't want Frodo to be alone for the rest of his life, you know? And…he needs someone who can make him smile." Merry glanced sideways to Gwyn, who was listening intently, "So…I chose Melonna. And Melonna…well, my plan to match her up with Frodo is mostly an act of vindication, really."

Gwyn giggled. "Really? What'd she do? Try to set you up with one of the Sackville-Bagginses lasses?"

"Oh, blood of Orcs, _no_!" Merry barked a horrified laugh, "But she definitely was trying to set me up. And I'd actually prefer to remain single."

A flicker appeared in Gwyn's eyes, and for a second Merry thought she looked disappointed, but she quickly replied, "I do, too. I guess I'm still not ready to be in a relationship yet."

"Yes," Merry nodded, and considered confiding into her about Éowyn—when he saw two familiar black ponies in front of an intricately designed wagon.

Merry's stomach flip-flopped. "Oh, no. Oh, bad, bad, bad," he started muttering.

Gwyn averted her stare from him to the wagon and back to Merry. "Merry?" She touched his arm "What's the matter?"

But Merry barely heard her, too distracted and dismayed. "Oh, bad, bad, BAD!" He cried, racing towards the hobbit-hole.

"Merry? _Merry_?" Gwyn called after him, and perplexedly chased after him.

Merry burst into the door, and stifled a loud groan as he faced the two hobbits in his dining room, smiling stiffly and yet affectionately at him. Merry swallowed another groan and instead plastered a falsely welcoming smile on his face. "Why, hullo! This is an unexpected—_ooof_!" He grunted as Gwyn accidently rammed into his back and plowed him down on the floor. "Oops," he heard her embarrassed quip. "Sorry."

"_Why_!" The elder hobbit lady declared with a light lilt to her tone, "You didn't tell us you had a _beau_…son."

Gwyn's jaw dropped open and she went instantly pale. Well, paler than usual. And this time Merry wasn't afraid to emit a groan.

"Um…I'm not really his beau," Gwyn laughed nervously as she bent down to help Merry up.

Merry nodded and wiped the dust off his trousers. "She's just my friend. Father, Mother, this is Gwynra. Gwyn, meet my parents, Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck."

"Honestly, Meriadoc! Have you forgotten how to address introductions properly?" His mother rang out, and his father nodded in agreement, "Go on, son, start again and this time add the girl's _last_ name."

His mother nodded stoutly, "And you called her twice differently—is it either _Gwynra_ or _Gwyn_? Come, come."

"Uh…" Merry looked to the left at Gwyn, unsure; he felt that Gwyn might not want to share her last name with the _Master of Buckland_.

But to his surprise, Gwyn stepped forward and squared her shoulders bravely, "Master of Buckland, my name is Gwynra Whitfoot. But everybody calls me Gwyn."

His father's gaze roamed up and down over Gwyn, clearly scrutinizing the girl but he did it without bias.

"High cheekbones…sharp, thin eyebrows…ridiculously curly hair." Merry's mother muttered, tapping her chin with a plump hand. She didn't seem to notice Gwyn's wavering confidence and faint blush.

"Curly hair is common for hobbits," Merry stated through gritted teeth.

"Her eyes—they're so dark," his father remarked, "Are they blue or brown?"

"Blue, sir." Gwyn mumbled.

Merry shook his head, annoyed with his parents—he'd been annoyed with them from the moment he saw their wagon in front of his stable. Merry stalked forward and took Gwyn by the elbows, guiding her to the cushioned chair next to his mother's. "Honestly, Ma, Dad," he protested, "Do you have to treat my guest and friend like that? I thought you weren't like the Sackville-Bagginses."

His mother gasped indignantly, and his father coughed. "Why, of all the insults and disrespect you show us, Meriadoc!" Mother spouted. "Is that any way you talk to us in front of your 'guest and friend'?"

"Esmeralda," his father lifted a finger warningly, "Meriadoc is right. We shouldn't let the poor girl feel out of place. Especially after I've just realized why your name sounds so familiar—you were part of the Whitfoots' accident at the mill three summers ago, weren't you, young lady?"

"Yes." Gwyn answered in a soft voice. Merry felt the desire to reach over and touch her hand to comfort her, but he resisted. He sat next to his father instead.

"I do not wish to discuss it, though," Gwyn finished in a firm tone.

"Of course, of course," Mother nodded sympathetically, "I remember hearing about it. Dreadful story, dear. Why, you're nothing like how Sigismond Noakes described you—of course, I believe that lad was known to be quite the—"

"Ma." Merry cut her off, silently pleading for her to stop. And she did.

Merry noticed Gwyn's visible relief, and knowing she'd like to be away from his parents for a while, he suggested kindly, "Gwyn, would you please prepare us some tea and refreshments?"

"Of course," Gwyn more than willingly hopped up, but his mother squealed, "Meriadoc! What is she—your maid? I thought she was your guest and friend, not your—"

"It is all right, Missus," Gwyn quickly interrupted in a soothing voice, "I do love to do things like that—I like being alone."

"…Oh. All right." Mother's round, plump face beamed pleasantly as she settled down once again.

Merry's parents weren't bad people, really—they just came off as…a tad overbearing, and maybe a little blunt. They were sort of…a more well-liked, softer version of the Sackville-Bagginses. They did mean well.

While Gwyn crossed the room to the kitchen, Father spoke up. "I know you might be shocked by this surprise visit, son—we apologize. You just never wrote back regarding our letter from weeks ago!"

"Why, we supposed you were dead! So we decided to come. But here you are, my only baby, alive and well, and perhaps a bit chubby!" Mother smiled affectionately. Across the room, Merry heard Gwyn disguise a laugh with a cough. He clenched his fists.

"They're muscles, Ma," he replied dryly, "You forget I was in war no more than a year ago."

"Oh, yes," Mother nodded. "Yes. I hope you haven't been up to those foolish shenanigans again, boy—"

"I haven't, Ma. I certainly have had my share of them." Merry assured honestly.

"Good!" Father boomed, "I wouldn't want my only heir to the Master of Buckland title to be killed off in some movement that we hobbits stay proudly out of."

Merry shrugged. "Blame Mother for sending the Tookishness down to me when I was born."

"Oh, son," Mother huffed indignantly, but Merry could tell she was rather amused, "Must you be cruel to your poor old mother?"

Merry smiled at her, this time a real smile. Mother sighed loudly, nostalgic. "I do remember my days of youth—I'd go off climbing trees and fishing and—"

"You fished and climbed trees?" Gwyn's awed voice cut into the conversation; she had paused piling the tea set supplied onto the tray and glanced up at Mother in childlike fascination. Merry could tell Gwyn actually already had taken a liking to his mother—_Oh, bad, bad, bad…_

"Why, yes," Mother simpered, "It wasn't until when I was nineteen when a fall from a tree had broken my leg. That's when I met your father, Meriadoc," she blushed and exchanged a loving gaze with Father.

Merry rolled his eyes but secretly loved his parents' close marriage. He'd known some hobbit couples who were miserable together, and made their children equally miserable. The Sackville-Bagginses, for example. And Pippin's father was known to be harsh and domineering at times, and his mother was nothing more than a trembling, submissive slip of a hobbit wife.

"…Speaking of love matches…have you met yours, Merry?" Father raised his chin, shooting his son a knowing grin. Merry stuttered, unable to reply. He then thought of Éowyn…but the image of the willowy, golden-haired woman quickly faded away—and was replaced by a dark-haired, dark-eyed lass…Merry could hardly believe his own feelings. _Am I just fickle, or am I really in love this time?_

"Um…no." Merry decided to go with his best answer. If he didn't know if he was in love or not, then he'd just say no.

And then he regretted it as soon as his mother opened her mouth.

"Oh, wonderful! Then you can just watch me play the matchmaker mother, Meriadoc! I do have a list of prospective wives for the Master of Buckland…"

Merry sank down in his head and glanced over at Gwyn, sending her a despairing stare. But Gwyn appeared distracted, watching his mother with a slight frown. Was she…_jealous_?

"…Belba Roper, Mimosa Puddifoot, Myrtle Chubb, and that's—oh! Let's not forget the charming Ophelia Sackville-Baggins!"

"_Noooo_!" Merry cried out, a bit dramatically for his own taste, but he felt so horrified. "Not Ophelia Sackville-Baggins, _Maaaa_! She's rotund, loud, obnoxious, clumsy, and so-so-so rude!"

"What's the matter, child?" Merry heard his father call, and he followed Father's gaze over to the kitchen counter. There, Gwyn leaned over, laughing hysterically and holding onto her stomach. "O-O-Ophe—_Ophelia_!" She gasped raggedly between cackles, and Merry would've liked to stomp over there and whack her with the teapot. "She—she—she…" She dissolved into giggles, unable to finish.

"Child, are you simply smoking too much weed or give in to excessive drink, or do you find Ophelia Sackville-Baggins simply a humorous piece of conversation?" Mother inquired severely, pressing a hand over her chest, watching a red-faced Gwyn compose herself, struggling not to snicker again.

Instantly, Gwyn stopped, and all traces of glee left her face. Anger replaced it. Glaring furiously, she snapped, "I do not smoke nor do I drink! If hobbits lay around drinking and smoking all day, they'd all be my father!" With that, she spun around and stomped down to the cellar.

Silence resided in the room. Father then cleared his throat awkwardly, and Mother seemed guilty. "Oh, my, I didn't think I'd…"

"Her father is very ill," Merry explained, "Gwyn told me it's because he was an excessive drinker. It's what made them poor."

"Yes," Father shook his head soberly, "I do remember Isengar Whitfoot always bringing ale or beer with him whenever he visited me. Once I asked him if his drinking caused problems in the family, and Isengar replied with a merry laugh, _'Oh, no. I'd never harm my beloved wife or children when drunk. However, I admit our finances are a bit tight lately.'_"

"Well…" Mother stuttered before decidedly changing the subject, "You are going to the harvest festival in Hobbiton, aren't you, Meria—"

They were interrupted by a loud crash coming from the cellar. "_Blasted ale! Stupid, idiotic beer!"_ A cry came from there, and another crash. "Excuse me," Merry rose and quickly headed for the cellar.

He found Gwyn standing at the base of the stairs. His beer barrel and ale barrel were overturned on the floor, and holes kicked into them seeped with the alcoholic liquid, soaking the sod floor and making bubbly pools of mud.

"Well…" Merry raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the mess. "If you hate that I drink occasionally, then you could have just said so."

Gwyn's shoulders slumped, and she sank down on the bottom step. "Oh, Merry, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me—" she broke into a sob, covering her face with her blue apron.

"Hey, hey," Alarmed with her despondent mood, Merry rushed down and sat next to her. He covered her hair with his hand, stroking it lightly, whispering, "It's okay. Nothing to feel bad about…it's your belief…I believe the same thing, too—"

"How can you _believe_ it if you _live_ it?" Gwyn sharply accused, looking up at him through teary eyes.

Merry shook his head, "Not drinking, Gwyn—drunkenness. Isn't that what made your father ill? You see, what I believe is that if we don't give into drink excessively, it is fine to use it. It's just like…if you eat too much of something, you get sick. Right? Same with drinking. It's balance and limits you got to believe in, Gwyn. Not what is an absolute no and what is an absolute yes."

Gwyn blinked up at him, and realization dawned in her eyes. Merry smiled tenderly, wiping curls out of her face and pushing them behind her ear. "I'm just glad I don't smoke pipe-weed anymore, otherwise there'd be a bigger mess to clean up." He tried to lighten up the mood.

Gwyn cocked her head curiously. "Not anymore? Why not?"

Merry's smile froze, regretting he'd said that. "That's other story." He answered firmly, pushing away thoughts of the late King Théoden, who'd been like a father to him.

"Oh," Gwyn nodded in understanding, "Still, I'll pay for all of this—"

"No," Merry shook his head determinedly, "I forgive you. I haven't had a drink from those for a while now, anyway. Been too busy."

"Still, Merry—"

"Hush!" Merry pressed his thumb to her mouth, instantly regretting it when the softness of her mouth shot tingles down his thumb and sent blood rushing rapidly through his veins. Merry couldn't help but run his thumb along her fuller lower lip and down her chin while pulling it away. "Let's make a deal, then," he went on quickly, "You pay me for this mess—by going with me to the harvest festival."

Gwyn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you asking me out?"

"Kind of," Merry nodded anxiously, "My mother will make me miserable by setting me up with Ophelia Sackville-Baggins—or the other girls, for that matter…Belba, Mimosa, Myrtle…ugh, all inconceivable names…"

"I like Mimosa," Gwyn muttered, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

Merry snorted. "Well, call your future little girl that, but you also got to give her a nickname for it. Like _Mimi_."

"I do like that."

"Yes. So…will you go out to the harvest festival with me? I'd rather take you with me over them any day. And with you at my side, I'm officially unavailable."

Gwyn blushed. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

Merry chuckled quietly. "Absolutely. Now, will you? Go with me?"

"Of course, _Meriadoc_, I would be _honored_!" Gwyn mimicked Ophelia in a high voice. She'd met Ophelia in the marketplace the other day, and found a guilty pleasure in making fun of the highfalutin Sackville-Baggins lass' shrill voice. Merry laughed. "Nice impersonation."

Gwyn smiled, wiping away a last tear. "Thank you, Merry. For helping me. Now…I suppose I should apologize to your mother. Do you think she's still offended than ever?"

Merry took her left hand in his larger hands and pressed a kiss on those cool, slender fingers. "She'll forgive you easily. I got that quality from her."

Gwyn pulled away, looking away shyly. Meriadoc felt himself tremble, the legs turning into jelly, the sweaty palms… _Oh, bad—bad—bad—_

Thankfully, Gwyn rose up before Merry could succumb to his out-of-the-mind desire to pull her into his arms and—

He banished the idiotic notion out of his head and followed her upstairs.

Gwyn stood before Merry's mother contritely. "Missus, I am really sorry I got angry and rude with you. Please forgive me."

"Oh, nonsense, child," Mother waved her hands about, "It's all in the past, and I suppose I should apologize as well. I didn't mean to be insensitive, dear."

"Thank you, Missus. I forgive you as well." Gwyn smiled kindly and stepped back. "Let me prepare the rest of the refreshments."

"You two were down there for quite a while," Father remarked. Merry shot him an irritated look, which only made him seem somewhat mildly amused.

"Now…anyway, Mother," Merry gazed at his mother levelly, "I will be unable to take any of those girls to the festival—because I am already to be Gwyn's escort. She hadn't had one, so I offered."

"I see," Mother's eyes widened in understanding. "Well, I will accept that. You are very kind to extend favor and privilege to the less fortunate, Meriadoc."

"Esmeralda," Father gave his wife a warning look; no desire to insult Gwyn once again. Mother bit her lip, submitting. Just then, Merry thought he heard something outside, so he strode over to the windows, but no one was in sight. Shrugging, he returned to his chair.

Merry watched his father's crooked jaw line and one dimple in his left cheek, much like his own. And Merry's nose and chin were from his mother's. His hair, eyes, and mouth was his father's. He wondered what features Gwyn had from her parents. Was she the spitting image of her mother, or did she have a little of both?

They all chatted for the next hour; mostly spent by Merry's parents humiliating him with stories of his childhood told to Gwyn, who found every bit of them amusing. Except for the one when Merry had caught three frogs and chopped them up and pushed them under Melonna's pillow. Gwyn wasn't much of an animal person, but…well, the picture still was gruesome.

Finally, Mother and Father decided to leave. They had business to attend to back in Bucklebury. Once their wagon rattled off to the road, Merry shut the door, leaned back against it, and sighed loudly. He gazed up at Gwyn, standing opposite him.

"Hmm. You have quite interesting parents, _Meriadoc_," her eyes twinkled.

"Shut up," Merry muttered and stalked over to return the tea set and empty tray of honey biscuits back to the sink.

"No, really," Gwyn giggled and followed him, "I actually liked them. A little odd…but nice."

"Compared to the Sackville-Bagginses?" Merry raised an eyebrow at her. Gwyn smirked. "Yes."

Merry chuckled, "Don't get me wrong—I love them and all, but…I just don't like being the future Master of Buckland. Hobbit politicians and officials aren't very well-liked in the Shire, so it seems."

Gwyn acknowledged. "Yes. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew the heir to the Master of Buckland was escorting me to the harvest festival," she laughed.

Merry grinned knowingly, "You almost had one when you found out about my title, remember?"

Gwyn stiffened, but her smile betrayed her indignation. "That was then," she muttered.

"Were your folks politicians once? I think you mentioned your father being the mayor of Newbury once," Merry recalled.

"Yes," Gwyn answered quietly, her gaze lowering, "And then Newbury kicked him off his title when they found his drinking problem was causing us to become poor. They didn't want a mayor inclined to drunkenness. Right after my father was abdicated, Mira and Ilberic's father gladly accepted the offered title. That was two months before…That Dark Day." She finished.

Merry sent her a sympathetic look before pumping the water and adding lye soap. "How was your father a physician as well?" He inquired.

"He was one before becoming mayor. And then he passed down his work to Cec while he ruled his office. When he was pushed out, he returned to his healing work. He was better with medicine over law enforcement, anyway. And then he took ill last October, and Cec has been the healer again since."

"I see," Merry replied thoughtfully. Last October would be a year since he and Pippin left the Shire. This year—two years. He could hardly believe how well he'd adapted being back in the Shire for seven months—especially for being away for eighteen months.

"Yes…" Gwyn stated, pressing her fist into her palm, looking a little uncomfortable, "Well…I'll be taking a nap now. B-bye," she waved a bit awkwardly and looked eager to flee. Merry held up a hand to bid her goodbye, but she was already gone.

* * *

_**(An hour earlier…)**_

"Did you hear _that_?"

"_Shhh_! Yes, I did, you fool of a Took. I'm not deaf!"

"Oh, my goodness! This is so wonderful!"

"_Shhhh_!" Both Melonna and Pippin shushed her. The brunette Diamond nodded obediently and covered her mouth with her fingers.

Pippin grinned excitedly, "I have no idea of what made Merry ask Gwyn out—but this is excellent news. We must tell Frodo."

The three young hobbits sat couched together under Merry's bushes. The leaves had died off, so they'd be easily visible, but so far it seemed that no one had seen them.

"Considering Uncle Scattergold and Aunt Essie is in there, I'm supposing they tried to set Merry up with something far more worse than…oh, I don't know…" Melonna muttered.

"Maybe they tried to set Merry up with a certain Orc of the name Ophelia," Pippin snickered.

Diamond giggled, "Poor Merry! That would be perfectly understandable, then."

Melonna smiled slyly, "Merry is so going to hear from me when I go in."

"Not yet, Melonna," Pippin quickly spoke, "I want you to come with us to Frodo's—"

"But I just got home from there," Melonna stated, "I'd feel silly going back."

"But I want you to come with us!" Pippin repeated, almost childishly, making Diamond giggle. "Please? You can have the honor of telling Frodo," he gave her a coaxing smile, "Besides…we know you like him. No point in denying it, missy…if you don't come with us, I'll tell him you're just ill from being madly in love with him."

Melonna's blood boiled. "Peregrin Took…you…are…despicable. Let's go." With a huff, she grabbed Pippin by the ear and yanked him away. Pippin yelped, taking Diamond's hand as they ran off.

Their breaths puffing up visible swirls of air, they raced down the road to Bag End. They were pleasantly surprised to find Sam and Rosie strolling along. "Ho, there, Sam! Rosie!" The ever-sociable Pippin called out merrily, gathering the fiancé and fiancée's attentions.

They turned around and smiled. "Hullo, Pippin! Miss Melonna, Miss Diamond." Sam bowed his head at the lasses and glanced back at Pippin, "Are you headed off to Mister Frodo's home as well?"

"We're taking a stroll, and we want to stop by to visit him," Rosie explained cheerfully.

"We are, too!" Pippin grinned, "And we have news for him!"

"What news?" Sam's brow raised curiously, his green eyes lighting up.

"Merry asked Gwyn out to the harvest festival!" Diamond tacked on gleefully.

Rosie gasped, "Oh, that's marvelous news! I _knew_ Merry and Gwyn liked each other," she giggled.

Sam smiled, "That's so nice! And why does Mister Frodo need to know?"

Pippin cleared his throat and slightly tilted a head towards Melonna, who was gushing out details on what she heard to Rosie. Sam's eyes widened in understanding and his mouth formed an _o_. He nodded and bit back an amused smile. _So Pippin hopes that if he, Merry, and I all already have escorts to the festival, then Mister Frodo will be compelled to take Melonna! Clever, clever indeed, Pippin._

Sam cleared his throat and smiled, "Well, let's go, shall we?" And the five hobbits all rushed to Frodo's home.

Boy, was he in for a surprise.

Frodo unwittingly opened the door, and did a double-take when he saw Sam, Rosie, Pippin, Diamond, and Melonna all grinning at him like a herd of hungry cats. Feeling foolishly nervous, Frodo stepped aside. "Um, hullo. What's…going on?"

"Frodo, my friend and dear cousin," Pippin spoke up first, gliding in smoothly and clapping his hands onto the older hobbit's shoulders, guiding him into his living room as the others followed.

"What are you up to?" Frodo asked suspiciously.

"_Nothing_!" Pippin exclaimed, clearly feigning indignation. "We…we all…just have something to tell you."

Frodo watched Melonna nod vigorously, smiling like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. Shy Diamond slightly hid behind Rosie, but her dark eyes shone with excitement. Sam and Rosie fidgeted, clearly impatient.

"What, did I inherit all of the Shire or something?" Frodo muttered, settling back in his chair that Pippin had forced him into, and the others gathered on the other chairs and couches in the room, heated up by a blazing fireplace.

"Nope!" Melonna giggled. "But Merry might just as well be on his way to his own wedding!"

"Oh, Miss Melonna, I wouldn't go that far," Sam chuckled, "But he _did_ ask Miss Gwyn out to the harvest festival."

"He did?" Frodo straightened up, pleased with the news. Finally, Merry was moving on from Éowyn.

"Yup!" Pippin confirmed, "Melonna, Diamond, and I happened to see that Merry's folks were at his hobbit-hole, so we decided to go visit—"

"We _eavesdropped_, Peregrin." Melonna cut in with a scolding tone.

"_Don't_ call me that," Pippin snapped and continued, "And we suspect it might be because Merry didn't want to be set up with Ophelia Sackville-Baggins." And the rest of the group laughed loudly.

Frodo smiled good-naturedly, "Merry did a wise thing, then, by asking Gwyn out. Later I shall have to go over and…rib at him for a bit about it." He finished with an uncharacteristically mischievous smirk. Melonna chuckled softly, happy that Frodo's spirits were improving just as much as Gwyn's. Their natures—solitary, serious, and quiet—would always remain, but also with the practice of more cheerfulness and sociability. "You can escort me back home and rib him with me!" Melonna suggested with a giggle. Frodo grinned, apparently agreeing.

"Speaking of escorts…" Sam spoke up, raising his eyebrows towards Pippin, who smiled. Too innocently.

"Soooo…by the way, Frodo, do you know who else will be coming with us to the harvest festival?"

Frodo tilted his head to one side, wondering, "Hmm…I give up. Who?"

"Why, _you_, of course…and _Melonna_!"

"What?" Frodo and Melonna exclaimed in unison. Pippin blinked and looked between the two, "Oh, why do you look so dismayed…don't tell me you two are fighting again!"

"We—we aren't!" Frodo snapped. "I just don't plan to go to the harvest festival!"

"And you're embarrassing us, _Peregrin_." Melonna growled through clenched teeth. Pippin looked over at Sam frantically.

Sam abruptly spoke up, "Mister Frodo, can we talk? For a minute?"

Frodo hissed through his teeth, frustrated and embarrassed that Pippin had stuck him in such an awkward situation. He'd actually be honored to escort Melonna to the festival—but the issue was—_he wanted to stay home_.

Frodo followed Sam into his study like an ashamed dog after its owner. When Sam closed the door behind him, Frodo glanced up from his books and gazed expectantly at Sam.

"Mister Frodo, please don't be mad at Pippin—he meant well, really. Don't you know Rosie, Pippin, Merry, and I just want you to be happy? You're—you're our friend. And beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo, but…well, you're awful lot like a brother to me, admittedly." Sam looked down, stammering self-consciously. Frodo's crossed arms fell to his sides; he felt touched by Sam's kind, honest words.

"You're just like a brother to me, Sam, the brother I never had," Frodo smiled gently. "I do know you all mean well. It's just that…I would love to escort Melonna to the festival, yes, but…I'd rather stay home. You know I am not very social, except when I'm with close friends like you."

Sam nodded, "I—I understand that, Mister Frodo, truly I do. Rosie an' I—we ain't tryin' to make you into somebody else, but we don't want you to, you know, shut yourself out of the world—somethin' like that." His lower-class hobbit accent intensified as he felt nervous—he didn't want to offend Frodo.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo sighed, understanding his friends' intentions. They wanted him to be happier and more sociable, like Gwyn was becoming. They were just fine with his solitary nature, clearly, but they did not want him to turn it into the extremes. And Frodo didn't, either. Look how well being overly solitary turned out for Gollum! Never mind it was mostly because of the Ring's influence—it was also lack of real company that turned him mad.

"All right, Sam—you've convinced me," he smiled simply, and the light in Sam's gentle eyes confirmed his relief.

Sam and Frodo left the study and returned to the living room. Frodo went around Melonna's chair and knelt before the lass, who was slouched and crossing her arms, her expression pink with mortification and dark with worry.

"Melonna?" Frodo inquired cautiously. Melonna averted her bright stare to his.

"I would be honored to escort you to the Autumn's End Harvest Festival if you would allow me," Frodo gallantly invited.

At first, shock registered in Melonna's eyes, and then elation followed. But Melonna composed herself and merely smiled cheerfully. "I accept your offer, Frodo. Thank you."

"_YES_!" Pippin and Diamond exclaimed in unison, and Rosie and Sam laughed, gazing at each other.

But Frodo was still rather irked at Pippin, and so to alleviate his irritation, he grinned impishly at the two. "Has Pippin kissed you yet, Diamond?" He quipped. He heard Melonna's disguised laugh as a cough, and Sam and Rosie looked away awkwardly, humorous expressions on their faces.

Pippin's smile instantly disappeared and Diamond paled. "Diamond, we're leaving." He announced, took the small lass' hand, and abruptly pulled her along, leaving the hobbit-hole. Melonna grinned wickedly, and Rosie rubbed her fine chin with her fingers, "I wonder what that reaction means…" She murmured, eyes sparkling.

"No!" Sam shook his head and nudged her along.

"But, Sam, I do wonder…" Rosie jabbed teasingly.

"No, no, no." Sam kept shaking his head, smiling, and gently guiding the laughing Rosie out of the hobbit-hole.

Melonna chuckled, watching the two. "I can't wait for their wedding," she sighed.

"Me neither," Frodo answered. "Now…shall we go back to Merry's and make fun of him?"

Melonna's infectious grin was all it took.

* * *

**A/N: Aaahh…don't you just love fluff? :) Next chapter shall have an overload of fluff… :D But then comes yet more drama. :/ :P XD**

**Some Advertising: I'd highly recommend ****A Step Away From Falling****, by estie793. It's a Pippin+Diamond fic. It's sooooo cute and well-written and I love it. Speaking of which, I really need to beta her latest chapter—rumor's that Frodo is in it… ;) EEEE! :D LOL.**

**So…maybe you'd like to R&R? :)**


	17. A Dance and a Disappearance

_**Chapter Seventeen: A Dance and a Disappearance**_

* * *

**A/N: Well, well, well—Chapter Seventeen already? ;P Enjoy! :)**

** Thanks for the reviews - thanks so much. They truly do make my day, and if I could reply to each of them right now, I would. :') However, I've got a busy day ahead, so shout-outs will have to wait for now. :P Sorry! :( Thank you all once again. :)**

**Unbeta'd, so forgive me for any mistakes. :)**

**D****ISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

* * *

"Are you dressed?"

"Yes."

"Good! Now, come out. We want to see!"

"No."

"Why not, dear? I'm sure you look beautiful—"

"I. Hate. Silk!"

"…It's not all silk, dear—just the sash—"

"I want to wear something else. There's a red dress in the—"

"Now, now, now," Rosie tutted, shaking her head, "Gwyn! The lass who made your dress is in here. Let's not hurt her feelings, shall we? Come out before I get Merry in here to drag you out."

"You wouldn't."

"Yes, she would!" Melonna burst out in exasperation, rolling her eyes and flopping back on Gwyn's bed. "Melonna, sit up," Berylla Sandyman chided, "You'll ruin your hair I just fixed."

Melonna scowled and shook her head, letting down the elegant high bun, dismaying Berry. She sighed, "I'm sorry, Berry—I just think I look like a highfalutin lass from Newbury with this hairdo!" She stroked her fingers through her golden curls, yanked out the pins, and let her hair fall down to her chest. Berry shrugged, rolling her eyes. She usually wasn't one to take things personally, thankfully.

Diamond suddenly stamped her little foot impatiently and went behind the dressing-curtain and pushed Gwyn out. "_Hey_!" Gwyn exclaimed indignantly.

Melonna, Berry, and Rosie gasped and cooed at Gwyn, who wrinkled her nose and started cringing extremely. "No, no, don't do that," Berry chided, walking over and making Gwyn stand up straight. "Now turn around, Miss Gwynra."

"Call me Gwyn," she mumbled as she complied reluctantly. Berry ignored her and placed her hand under her chin, scrutinizing Gwyn in the dress she had made so creatively.

"Hmm-mm. Hmm-mm." Berry murmured, and then beamed, "Extraordinary!"

"Thank you," Gwyn mumbled.

Berry grinned at the others. "What did I tell you? Just a few hemming here and there—and she looks…she looks fairer and lovelier than an Elf!"

"You've seen Elves before?" Melonna inquired, shocked. Berry smiled sheepishly, "Only in the picture books I looked at when I was little."

"Her hair needs to be done," Rosie chirped. She gathered up her red dress with a square collar and her golden brown hair was flowing in curls down just past her shoulder blades. She walked over to Gwyn and made her sit down on the bed. Melonna bit back a grin, enjoying how Rosie and Berry treated her like a fancy glass doll. Gwyn obviously saw her impish pleasure and glared.

Rosie unpinned Gwyn's bun and let free her black curls. "Goodness, Gwyn, you have such long hair! You should let it down more often—Merry would like it," she snickered.

"Oh, be quiet!" Gwyn pouted.

Rosie giggled and brushed the side temples of Gwyn's head, and took a little gold barrette with decorated leaves along the top, and gathered up both sides of Gwyn's hair, buckling up the barrette and forming a half-ponytail. The rest of her hair cascaded down her back. Melonna smiled warmly. "You look beautiful, Gwyn."

"Miss Berylla," Merry called through the guest room door, "Your fiancé is here to pick you up."

"Oh, Ed's here!" Berry clapped happily. She grabbed her satchel and left quickly. "See you at the party, girls!" She singsonged. "Bye," the rest chorused.

"I can't wait for our four-couples outing to the festival!" Diamond giggled.

Rosie smiled, "Poor Sam and Pippin looked absolutely nervous in the dining room."

"Not Merry." Gwyn rolled her eyes, "Too sure of himself."

"I hope Frodo won't be late," Melonna murmured worriedly. Alarmed, she glanced up at Gwyn. "Do you think he'll—stand me up?"

"Nonsense!" Rosie declared, "I know Frodo isn't like that. I know so—because I'm marrying his best friend."

"Rosie's right," Gwyn nodded and rose to place her hands on the shorter hobbit's shoulders. "Quit your jitters—you're not getting married; Rosie is." She turned twinkling eyes to Rosie, who blushed and smiled.

"Frodo's here!" They heard Pippin call, "You'd better hurry up, girls! Sheesh, why is being 'fashionably late' so important…"

Diamond rolled her eyes. "I am, for one, ready, so I'll go out and wait." She flounced out of the room. "See you in a minute," Gwyn waved.

Melonna smiled up at her. "You really like Diamond, don't you?"

"Of course I do—remember Swanahilda Banks? Di reminds me a lot of her."

"Good," Melonna gave a resolute nod, "I am so glad you've become a part of Hobbiton, Gwyn. Nearly one-fourths of this town knows and likes you already!"

Gwyn smiled, hiding her secret hurt. She liked Hobbiton, yes, but…she missed her family in Newbury. Where was Griffin? Was he still here? How was Papa? Was he still alive? How was Mama doing? Did Cec have a hard time working without Gwyn there to assist him? Maybe Swan and Mira helped out. For a split second, she considered canceling the festival outing and going off to Newbury…but then she thought of Merry, and didn't want to leave him at all. She felt torn.

Gwyn silently followed a chattering Rosie and Melonna into the dining room. "Rosie, you—you look lovely," Sam stuttered and blushed, and Rosie blushed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Frodo bowed at the lasses and smiled at Melonna, admiring her angelic appearance of flowing curls and a snowy white dress. Pippin and Diamond stood in the corner by the stove, guessing what foods would be at the festival.

Gwyn looked up at Merry, who looked momentarily entranced, but he quickly snapped to the present and walked forward, looking up and down admiringly but respectfully, "Gwyn, you're a sight for sore eyes." He complimented. Gwyn, still in a dark mood, nevertheless attempted a smile. "Thank you. I love this dress; orange is my second-favorite color."

"But she hates the silk," Melonna whispered loudly, earning a cross glower from Gwyn.

"Let's go," Frodo announced politely, "Darkness is falling quickly, so we'd better hurry."

Outside, Pippin helped Diamond into Frodo's passenger wagon first, and then he entered. Sam then let Rosie up and sat next to her. Frodo got up on the driver's seat and patted his ponies on the backs. He then helped Melonna up next to him. While the passengers were loading up, Merry noticed Gwyn's distracted, brooding manner. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked concernedly, and teasingly added, "You're not going to run away again, aren't you?"

"No," Gwyn shook her head. "I'm just fine, Merry. Thank you." She smiled stiffly.

Merry frowned slightly. "Why are you hiding things from me again?"

"I'm not," Gwyn gave him an incredulous stare.

"You are!" Merry snapped, almost loudly enough for them to hear. "You're a liar."

Gwyn narrowed her eyes. "Fine, then—I'll 'hide' anything I want, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and it'll be none of your business!" With that, she hopped up the wagon, leaving a disgruntled Merry behind. He scowled deeply and jumped up next to her. Sam and Rosie sat at one side of the wagon, and across them, in a line sat Diamond, Pippin, Gwyn, and Merry.

Frodo flicked the reins, after making sure Melonna's arm was safely linked around his, and they were off. Sam, Rosie, Pippin, and Diamond chattered loudly along the way, and Melonna joined in, and to distract himself from Gwyn, Merry jumped right into the conversations.

But Gwyn just sat in utter silence, angry with herself and Merry, mostly because she was ruining a memorable night with Merry, and her pride wasn't letting her try to fix it, and that Merry had called her a liar.

Her only companion right now was the wild, frigid wind that whistled obnoxiously into her ear.

When they arrived at the festival, held at the Green Dragon Dance Hall, Gwyn was overwhelmed by the number of hobbits attending. She almost stepped back and left, but just seeing Merry's guilty, yet stiff expression made her feel bad and she followed him into the coat hall.

Merry gallantly helped her out of her cloak, but they still didn't speak to each other. Merry went over to the refreshment table to talk with Pippin and an unfamiliar hobbit lad. Gwyn found a place with the elderly hobbits, who all smiled toothily at her and commented her on her "youthful beauty". One old hobbit lady offered to show her how to knit, and while Gwyn found the offer odd, she simply found nothing else to do, so she complied and sat across from her, holding the yarn for her.

Sometime later, she saw Sigismond Noakes smirking at her, and when he started walking towards her, Gwyn prepared to bolt, but then Sigi saw someone beyond Gwyn, standing at the refreshment tables. Paling, he turned away quickly. Gwyn looked around—to see Merry narrowing his eyes dangerously at a retreating Sigi. Gwyn nearly sighed in relief, thankful that Merry would still protect her even when he was angry with her.

The old lady knit so much, but she started dozing off. Within minutes, she'd rested her white head against her rocking-chair and slept, lulled away by the lively music that played in the background. Gwyn quietly set down the yarn at the lady's feet and looked around for something else to do—and then she saw the tea stand.

No sooner after she'd gotten her first sip of chamomile tea, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Oddly hoping it was Merry, Gwyn turned around—only to see Frodo smiling slightly at her. "Oh, hello," Gwyn waved away her disappointment, glad it wasn't Sigi at least. "Are you having a nice time? Danced with Melonna yet?" She grinned teasingly.

Frodo smiled and shook his head. "Actually, yes. You didn't see us?"

"No…I was helping someone knit—um, that old lady sleeping in that rocking chair…" Gwyn snapped her fingers, trying to recall her name. Frodo looked across the room, and his bright eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, that is Sam's grandmother, Hanna. She will be a hundred years old in March."

"Oh, my," Gwyn smiled, "No wonder. She's really nice."

"Yes," Frodo agreed, and then hesitantly asked, "Miss Gwyn…I was wondering if you'd like to dance? You seem troubled, and I'd like to cheer you up."

Gwyn considered, and then gave a single nod, taking his proffered hand. "Certainly." She let him lead her to the dance floor.

Across the dance floor, after a couple of minutes, a frustrated Melonna watched an oblivious Merry talk away with his friends. She near-stomped around the dance floor to him and pinched him in the arm.

"And then the—_ooow_!" He cried out and turned to glare down at her. "What's the big idea?"

Melonna smiled smugly, "If you're actually observant enough to catch Sigi stalk our poor Gwyn—then shouldn't you observe what she's _doing now_?"

Merry narrowed his eyes and looked around—to see Gwyn laughing and dancing with Frodo. Melonna licked her lips, watching Merry go positively green with jealousy. And then he smiled self-assuredly. "I must go, boys," he announced and carefully maneuvered through the horde of dancing hobbits.

"_Now_ that's just Merry," Melonna grinned and watched her cousin proudly.

Gwyn laughed. "Really? Just like that?"

Frodo nodded with mock self-satisfaction, "I give myself all credit for getting Sam and Rosie together. After all, if I hadn't pushed Sam towards Rosie on that night, they'd never—"

Gwyn never heard his last word as someone wound an arm around her waist, yanking her away from Frodo, and she found herself in the arms of Merry, who was grinning at her and whirling her around. "_Merry!_" Gwyn protested, "Frodo was just talking to me—you're horrible!" But all the same, she couldn't help but laugh, enjoying the feel of being in his arms. She felt safe and warm.

"Listen, Gwyn," Merry spoke as he led her around the dance floor, "I really am sorry for my rudeness earlier—please forgive me. I won't try to meddle in your business again."

Gwyn's heart melted. "Oh, Merry, thank you. I forgive you," she smiled, "And I'm sorry, too. I didn't want to dampen your mood earlier…but I was rude anyway, and that's no excuse."

Merry's eyes twinkled. "You can't dampen my mood. I'm just Merry!"

Gwyn laughed, relieved that she and Merry were back on good terms. She dared to draw closer to him as they danced.

Frodo and Melonna watched the laughing couple spin by them at the tea stand. Melonna squeezed Frodo's forearm. "Thank you, Frodo! You're a good matchmaker," she giggled. Frodo grinned. "Why, thank you. Now that Pippin, Sam, and possibly Merry have their own love lives…I having nothing left to do." He chuckled at his own joke. Melonna smiled weakly, wondering what it would be like once Frodo left the Shire.

Her heart would be empty and numb, that she knew.

But she wasn't going to let the future darken the present. This was now—and she was going to make the best out of it. She determinedly put up a smile on her face and watched the hobbits dance.

The current song ended, and Merry and Gwyn decided to finish dancing ad get some food. "You must be hungry," Merry remarked. Gwyn nodded, "Yes, but not thirsty. I already had tea."

"You're a tea addict."

"Shut up."

Merry chuckled and took some sweets from the server and handed it to Gwyn. "To represent your personality," he smiled warmly at her.

Gwyn blushed and looked away, trying to look aloof. "You're such a romantic," she muttered, trying not to smirk. She popped a piece of taffy into her mouth.

Once she'd swallowed her taffy, she felt Merry's stare upon her. She looked up at him curiously. "What?" She asked, licking her lips. His gaze was dark and wondering, and then all of a sudden, he slowly leaned down and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

Gwyn gasped softly, feeling her palms dampen and her heart race. If this what she felt when Merry kissed her on the cheek, she knew she'd surely melt if he took her in his arms and—

Gwyn cleared her throat, kicking that thought out of her head, and smiled uneasily at Merry. "Wh—what was that for?"

"I just felt like it," Merry offered a half-nervous, half-innocent, crooked smile. Gwyn rolled her eyes and composed herself, foolishly wishing he'd just kiss her again.

"I'm sure there's been other girls you've kissed—and loved—before me, Merry," Gwyn remarked, trying to imply that she was afraid of what was happening between them and that she certainly didn't want to explore it.

Merry nodded, "Honestly, yes, I've kissed some lasses before. But—loved? No. I'm not even sure what that feels like. There was this woman…but…well, now I'm not sure about that anymore." His eyes took on a faraway glaze. Gwyn was about to ask him whom he was speaking of when a loud rapping brought the entire room's attention.

Gwyn spun around to look up at the stage, where a band of hobbits fiddled on their musical instruments. There, the hobbits stood, open-mouthed, as Sigi had apparently stopped the music and stood upon a tall stool. "Good folks of Hobbiton," he grinned darkly, "I have an announcement."

Gwyn felt dread ripple through her. What was he up to? She then felt Merry's hand on her arm, in an attempt to soothe her.

"Among all of you good-natured, well-intending folks…is somebody. Somebody dangerous and deceitful…look at her. She'd gotten all of you wrapped around her finger—but just you wait—you'll regret it! The hobbit I speak of is…Gwynra Whitfoot!" He boomed. "She killed her own sister." He sneered. "What do you make out of that?"

All of the hobbits gasped and muttered amongst themselves, and those who already knew Gwyn all looked at her, astounded. Gwyn felt her heart pounding so hard that she thought it'd burst.

"This is an outrage!" Melonna was the first one to object. "You're a liar, Sigismond Noakes!"

"You'll be sorry for this!" Merry angrily stalked forward, quickly sending Gwyn an expression of _It'll be okay._

_No. It'll never be okay._ Gwyn realized miserably. And not caring if it was a mistake—she reacted to the first thing that popped up in her mind: _Run._

And she ran. She spun around and raced towards the exit. The once-silent room buzzed once again when some shouted, "Look! She's running out!"

Merry held back a furious snarl, stalking stealthily towards a smug-faced Sigi, who stared maliciously at Gwyn. Behind Merry came Pippin, Frodo, and Sam, who all apparently disagreed with Sigi. Melonna quickly retreated with Rosie, Diamond, and Berylla, who stood and whispered in a corner, staring at Gwyn all wide-eyed.

"_There she goes_!" A voice cried out, and loud protests boomed in the room, causing Merry to turn around. To his dismay, Gwyn was making a beeline towards the door. She didn't even snatch her cloak; she simply threw open the doors and vanished into the snowstorm. "_No_!" Merry cried out, running towards the door. He stepped out in the snow, looking around frantically, but the blizzard blinded him. "_Gwyn_!" He called. "_Gwyyyyyyyyyyyn_!"

Gwyn heard Merry scream her name distantly, but the howl of the wind nearly drowned it out, and she simply ran blindly. She didn't care if a wagon hit her or a fox attacked her—maybe even her death would be the best solution. She just wanted to get the heck out of here.

Gwyn stumbled headlong into the snow. She raised her head and started crying, lying there sprawled into the snow.

Not many moments later, a hand fell on her back, crept up to her hair, and pulled her up, Gwyn grunted in pain, but realized her handler wasn't trying to hurt her. She struggled to look through the stinging snow pellets—and to her surprise; her twin brother's eyes stared into her own.

With a silent nod, Griffin then gripped her arms and hoisted her up. Knowing they wouldn't be able to hear each other over the wind, Gwyn simply let Griffin lead her to safety.

A few feet away, straight ahead, was an abandoned, small shack near the mouth of the forest that stood before Hobbiton. Griffin pushed Gwyn inside and shut the door. The wind still could be heard, but now quieter.

Griffin sighed heavily and sat down on a stool next to Gwyn's seat.

"How did you know?" Gwyn questioned after thinking silently for a moment.

"I followed you there…saw Sigi. I knew he'd do something, so I was prepared." Griffin explained calmly.

Gwyn reached up, brushing snow out of her hair, wondering suspiciously at her brother's unnatural calm.

"Why are you helping me?" She frowned.

Griffin didn't seem to take offense at her hostility. "You're my sister."

"You sure didn't seem to acknowledge that three years ago," Gwyn muttered darkly. Suddenly, a sharp smack went across her face. Gwyn sighed heavily, smacking her lips, hoping her mouth wouldn't bleed. It didn't. She craned her neck to see her brother glaring at her.

"I'm helping you now," he growled lowly, "So be grateful. I could've left you out there, you know. Impulsive fool."

Gwyn almost retorted with a bitter "It takes one to know one!", but she didn't want other strike from Griffin. So she remained silent.

"Once the storm dies off, we'll leave here. Make our way to Girdley Island. I have a friend waiting for us in The Hill. We'll take our way from there in the morning, stop in Budgeford for a day or two, and then reside in—"

"Blizzards don't always stop after a few hours," Gwyn reminded incredulously, "We could be stuck here for _days_!"

"You shut it," Griffin snapped, "It'll lift up, I know it. It's only blasted November, for goodness' sakes."

Gwyn frowned bitterly and glanced down at her toes, now caked with snow. But hobbit feet were very, very tough. They could withstand any kind of surface or weather.

True to Griffin's word, a few hours later, the blizzard did stop. Everything went silent, and Griffin and Gwyn left the shack slowly. Gwyn looked up, shocked to see a full moon shining brightly through the branches. Stars dotted the sky.

She and Griffin made their way back up on the road to Hobbiton. Gwyn looked at the empty, dark streets of the downtown. It was obviously past midnight, since no sign of life was found.

She felt Griffin tug at her arm, and she sighed, following after him.

When they arrived at the fork in the road, Gwyn stared at the left side longingly, where Merry, Melonna, and all of her friends resided. Griffin sent her a rare, sympathetic look. Then he jerked his head gently, motioning for her to follow him east to other fork in the roads that led north and south; they went north, to The Hill.

To their new life.

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**A/N: GAAAAAH. D: The drama never seems to stop! :P Prepare to be surprised BUT happy in the next chapter…. ;)**

**Thanks once again! :D**


	18. Return to Merry

_**Chapter Eighteen: Return to Merry**_

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__**A/N: Holy cow. Hobbit drama ALL OVER! :P Haha, on the eighteenth chapter and the story isn't even over yet! ;) A case still yet to solve, a family yet still to mend, and a romance still yet to be started! ;) **_**And I do have a new major subplot to come up soon… ;P So you'd better be looking for clues. ;)**_** I plan to end this story at its twenty-sixth chapter—at the most—so we ARE already over halfway there already! :) So hold on… :D**

**WOW! I got more reviews this time—thank you all so much! :D **

** To anonymous reviewer Rachel, thank you so much for reviewing! :) I look forward to hearing from you again! **

** Estie, thank you, and I wish you the best on wedding planning! :D I'll PM soon, I promise! :) Oh, yes…and happy belated birthday. :D**

** Booklover4eva, thank you for your sweet review—it is honestly one of the most encouraging and enthusiastic! :D**

** LadyDoroAnne, thank you for your faithful reviewing and insights; you truly are one of my most helpful and observant reviewers! :)**

** Merlin's Ward Jack, I was sooo happy to get a review from you! :D I hope you keep enjoying this story! And thank you very much for your praise! :D**

** dark sk8er girl, haha, I know how you feel when one of my favorite fanfics aren't updated yet! ;D Here's an UPDATE! Yay! :D Thank you!**

** Kat-Invasion, honestly, your review was so well-written and a lot of thought was put into it—I thank you very much for it. :D This is what I want from my reviewers—not just compliments but also opinions on how a story is made. :D Thank you so much! Haha, cliffhangers…I know how you feel. I'm a cruel writer, though… ;) LOL! Here is an updaaaate! :D**

**WARNING: Brief alcohol references.**

**Unbeta'd, so please pardon me for any mistakes. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

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_**Two Months Later**_

Gwynra Whitfoot hated Girdley Island. She hated, hated, _hated _it. It was freezing, dry, and sandy. The pungent smell of fish and lake-weed hung in the air. And not to mention there was wind—day and night, day and night. It must be the perks of living on an _island_. Why, it wasn't even really an island! It was a narrow, long piece of land in the middle of a narrow, long river. Less than three hundred hobbits lived on Girdley Island; it was one of the least populated towns in the Shire. Girdley Island should be called Girdley _Islet_. The Shire lands could be easily seen just less than a mile on both sides.

"And don't even mention the folk here," Gwyn muttered to herself, fingering the drab brown sheets over her bed in the inn she and Griffin resided in. She lay stomach down on the narrow bed, her shins swinging above her body as she critically inspected the blankets, which were dusty and full of lint.

Yes. The folk on Girdley Island. They were _horrible_. Not stuck-up, judgmental, paranoid-horrible, like Newbury. Not _we-think-everybody-is-a-witch_-horrible, like High Hay. Not troublesome and talkative-horrible, like Tuckborough. No, it was more like, _we-are-here-on-this-island-because-no-one-likes-us-because-we-are-no-good-ruffians-and-thugs_-horrible.

Yes, indeed, most of the folk here were mostly hobbit criminals, banished to this island because of their…criminal activities. Gwyn scowled, thinking of Sigi. _He belongs here, all right._

Not that _everyone_ here was actually dangerous and cruel criminals—some were actually bumbling and oddly charming. They mostly were the kind of criminals who'd turned their lives around, or just simpletons who'd made foolish mistakes. Simpletons like her and Griffin. So they really did belong here as well, Gwyn surmised. But it didn't help her feelings of animosity towards this place.

Girdley Island was in fact a prison island. Every big town like Hobbiton, Tuckborough, Newbury, Bucklebury, or Bywater had jails of their own, but no prisons. Once a criminal was sentenced to prison time, he or she was transported here.

The only reason Griffin and Gwyn were here was because this place wasn't exactly a civilization with society rules; just laws. Griffin's friend who met them in The Hill was Rudigar Goodchild, an ex-thief who was on probation; he could roam all over the Shire as he wanted as long as he properly returned to Girdley Island within three days' time (concerning how far away he was).

Because Girdley Island did not allow non-criminals on their land unless they were officials or visiting a criminal, Rudy had Griffin pretend he was an official from Tower Hills who was taking Rudy back to the island, and Gwyn was simply a tagalong.

With Griffin's pretended position as a Shirriff (rank notable by a feather in a cap), he and Gwyn were safe to come and go as they pleased. Griffin believed this was the best place to stay, however, because in Rudy's own words, _"This ain't friendly Hobbiton; this is a prison place. No one's happy, but no one's sad, either. No one plumb cares about who you are and where you're from, as long as you stay out of their own stinkin' business."_

And so, that suited Griffin just fine and dandy like a chilled raspberry pie for a hot afternoon. So imagine his disgruntlement when Gwyn voiced her misgivings.

"_Shut it, Gwynnie-girl. I came to warn ya 'bout those folk in Hobbiton, that Sigi would try to turn them against you—I warned ya, Gwynnie. I warned ya. And what'd it get you? Exactly in THAT situation! So shut it, Gwynra, shut it and be grateful you brother's got your wishy-washy back."_

Gwyn bit down at her lower lip hard, fighting back tears. Griffin had been so bipolar towards her—one minute, he'd be harsh with her and threatening to smack her—but then he'd be down on the floor and holding her gently as she cried. And he'd apologize and coax her, telling her that this was the best place to live.

"_I got ya, Gwynnie-girl. I'm your brother, you're my sister. You love me, and I love you. Nothin's gonna change that, you hear? I got ya."_

Gwyn flipped over on her back, letting her head fall back over the edge of the low bed. Her long black curls fell and swayed mid-air. Gwyn recently had her hair cut up to the line of her shoulder blades, and she'd gotten long fringe to slightly cover her eyes. Griffin said she did look unrecognizable. Gwyn never had bangs before, and she hated it.

The door swung open suddenly, blowing dust and cold air into the room. Gwyn coughed and lifted herself upright, shifting around on the bed to look at the intruder. Griffin sauntered into the room, yanked open a long drawer, and pulled out a fishing-pole. Gwyn stared at him quizzically, and he sensed her gaze. He waved the fishing pole, as if to say it should be obvious.

"In late _January_?" Gwyn spoke incredulously.

"Yes, sister. Rudy and I have found a frozen spot on the river where it's safe to walk across, and we are going to fish for trout. It's the time of the season in which they quickly move south where the water is warmer."

"Wouldn't they have started doing that last October?" Gwyn responded dryly.

"Not those," Griffin grinned confidentially.

Gwyn shook her head, not having the slightest clue about what was going on. "Whatever. Go on."

"Be back past afternoon tea time, sis. Go visit somebody and grab elevenses at the bar," Griffin spoke in a mockingly paternal tone, irking Gwyn. Griffin waved his hands as if dismissing her and left the room without a word, slamming the door behind him.

Gwyn sighed loudly, feeling disappointed over her brother's radical change in the past three years. She supposed she had, too. Three years ago, she was so much more confident, minus the part in which she felt less important next to Ada. Three years ago, she didn't spend each minute watching every scene, listening for every sound, and being prepared for every offense.

And now? She was…rude, paranoid, distrustful, and snappy Gwyn.

_Why_ would Merry be interested in her? Yes, that was the question. Why? And more importantly, _how dare_ Gwyn assume such a thing! It was so _ignorant_, so _self-centered_, and so _pompous_ for her to assume that the _noble_ future Master of Buckland, one of the _heroes_ of the War of the Ring, would give her the slightest hint of attention.

All of her wallowing in self-loathing made Gwyn even angrier. Three years ago, she rarely thought of such things. Instead, she'd channel her self-hatred to self-assertion of her "perfect" qualities. Ada may be pretty, but I'm prettier. Ada might be sweet and graceful, but I know how to throw a punch and catch five fish under five minutes. Ada might be capable and intelligent, but I'm independent and resourceful.

But now? That kind of thinking only made Gwyn feel worse and her mind and emotions would take a darker turn. She then channeled her feelings into how _terrible_, how _abusive_, and how _paranoid _Griffin was.

She tugged at her curls miserably, wishing her brother was back to the way he was before That Dark Day. Sure, he had his flaws back then; Cec would sometimes label him as "the black sheep of the family". But nobody was perfect, were they? Nope, not even Gwyn.

But still…back then, Griffin always had been gentle towards his twin sister. He was very protective of her, and he never, ever hit her. He would be there for her when she was feeling down. He'd give her good advice when she was angry. He'd always invite her, first and only, on his fishing trips.

And now…Griffin didn't even trust her. His only priority seemed to be keeping himself and her safe. He hit her only when he felt mutinied against. And so Gwyn was forced to keep silent, and she'd do everything Griffin said, or else she wouldn't be safe from anything—even _him_.

But, in a sense, Gwyn grudgingly admitted, she knew Griffin _did_ care for her at some extent. He just had a funny way of showing it.

Her dark thoughts nearly made her eyesight dim, and in frustration, she jumped up and kicked shut the slightly ajar closet door. The motion made a satisfying slam, but now her toes throbbed. Hopping on one foot, she winced and rubbed her right foot.

Sighing heavily, she limped over to the window, and watched the nearly-empty cobblestone streets of Girdley Island. A flash of dark hair caught her attention—over there, near the hobbit-hole where the more dangerous criminals were detained without freedom to wander. Gwyn's eyes widened.

Frodo Baggins himself walked past that hobbit-hole, clad in all brown except for his green cape. He raised his eyes to the sky, which was mostly clear except for several large white clouds. He seemed to shrug and walked on with his staff. Gwyn couldn't look away—the sight of one of her friends from Hobbiton shocked her. And it made her miss Hobbiton even more. Especially Merry and Melonna.

_Oh, Merry._ Her heart seemed to whisper. Gwyn swallowed hard, feeling the ache from within. _If I had stayed there…would things have been different? Would Merry and I—_ she quickly shook the notion out of her head. No. She shouldn't be thinking of such things…

She looked up to search for Frodo—and there he was, now before the diner and bar. But his gaze was directed straight across the street—to the hobbit-hole inn, right at the window where Gwyn stared out of.

He was _looking at her_.

Gwyn gasped and drew back, dragging the heavy navy blue curtains to a close. However, she had a sinking feeling that it was too late…

Still, she reasoned with herself, Frodo was a lot like her, right? He'd mind his own business and move on. And even though Gwyn did consider him her friend, she didn't think the feeling was mutual. Surely Frodo would leave her alone—

"Miss Fairbairn?" A knock sounded at the door. Gwyn froze.

"You have a male caller. Says he knows you." The female secretary, Rowan, called.

Gwyn bit her lip, unsure, weighing the options. She had complete freedom to refuse and dismiss him—or she could see Frodo and hear from what's been happening in Hobbiton since her disappearance, about how Merry and Melonna were doing.

Sighing, she went with the latter. "I'm coming," she announced, padding across the room to the round door. She opened it to see the petite redheaded secretary—and Frodo, with his intense blue eyes.

"Hello," Gwyn greeted guardedly, but let him know with her eyes that she was actually pleased to see him.

"Hello, Miss…Fairbairn." Frodo smiled slightly, but he did seem puzzled with the last-name change.

"I'll leave you to her," Rowan informed and left.

Frodo made sure she was out of earshot, and then spoke up, "So…Fairbairn, hmm?"

"Griffin's pretending to be a Shirriff, so we can be here." Gwyn mumbled, avoiding his surprised expression.

"Well," Frodo answered carefully, "Maybe we should talk this over at elevenses. Money's on me."

"Okay," Gwyn sighed, feeling like a whipped puppy following after its master as she followed Frodo out of the inn.

They arrived at the diner and seated within a few minutes. They both ordered hot hambone stew and steaming honey tea.

"Well…have you been here all the time?" Frodo inquired, looking at her curiously, but Gwyn avoided eye contact. "Yes. Griffin and I have been residing here since a friend of his brought us here."

"Who is this friend?" Frodo questioned.

"Rudigar Goodchild," Gwyn replied truthfully. She could tell Frodo wasn't the kind of person who could be deceived easily.

"Is he a criminal?"

"Yes. On probation now. We entered the island on pretense of Griffin being a Shirriff, and I was his tagalong sister. We both kept our first names, but as you can tell, everyone thinks we're Fairbairns, not…" Gwyn looked around furtively and lowered her voice, "…You know."

"Yes. I know." Frodo replied softly. "And are you happy here?" He raised his eyebrows knowingly.

Gwyn lifted her gaze to his evenly. "No. But it's for the best."

"I do not understand," Frodo commented thoughtfully, "How you can keep doing this. You dwell in pain and fear, for you feel guilt from the past. You don't move on."

"What about you?" Gwyn's retort could've sounded like a rude challenge, but Gwyn only meant to make a point of the fact that she and Frodo were alike in that way.

Frodo smiled sadly. "I am going to move on. In eight months, my uncle Bilbo and I are to head for the Grey Havens."

Gwyn frowned in question. "What's that?"

"It's hard to explain," Frodo looked to the right, trying to figure out a simple answer, "Look at it this way: it's a place for moving on. This place…it is called Valinor. It is mostly the 'last homely place' for the Elves. Perhaps you have heard of it in hobbit-lore: it's a supposedly mythical western realm called _Faery_."

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, trying to recall if she ever heard of those kind of stories as a child. "No," she shrugged, "My mother never liked telling fantastical stories. She said it made the imagination overactive. My father, on the other hand, had he not been busy with his job as a healer, he'd have told us hobbit-lore each night before bedtime."

"I see," Frodo answered and smiled slightly. Mentions of parents made him miss his own. "My parents died when I was twelve. Before then, my mother would tell me hobbit-lore before bed, and whenever she couldn't, my father would."

"I'm sorry your parents died," Gwyn stated sympathetically. "I understand what it feels like to lose family…my sister, you know." Gwyn felt she couldn't just hide it anymore; practically the Shire's entire region of The Water had been there to witness Sigismond's malicious speech.

"Yes," Frodo's gaze softened towards her, but he continued on his explanation of Valinor. "Anyway, even though Valinor is a place for Elves, it is also a place for the Ring-bearers." With that, he started feeling self-conscious of his four-fingered hand, and he drew it under his one good hand. Gwyn's eyes averted to his hidden hand, and she made a subtle nod, "That's how you lost your finger? Sometime on the Quest?"

Frodo nodded tensely. "It's a long story."

"You don't have to explain it. Please do go on to your point."

"Gwyn," Frodo shifted in his seat, trying to think of a good way to explain, "I also have this wound on my upper chest—"

"Merry told me you were stabbed by a Mor…Morg…a Mordor blade?" Gwyn recalled.

Surprised, Frodo answered, "Yes. A _Morgul_ blade. And this wound…it will never fully heal. I shall have to live with this pain for the rest of my life. And not only do I have physical wounds to dwell with, Gwyn, but also emotional. The Quest I was on…it changed me. I was quite a loner before then, but now it's even more. I also find it hard to trust people. Some betrayed me on the Quest, you see. I hate ash and fire; so does Pippin."

"The Quest changed my perspective on life—I have seen so many evils, and I want to get away from it. That is why I am to go to Valinor. I want all of my pain removed. Also…my uncle Bilbo, who sometimes is very much of a father figure to me…is going, for he was a Ring-bearer before me. I do not wish to be parted from him forever."

Gwyn frowned, deep in thought. Her eyes roved over the table, mulling over Frodo's answer. And then, she spoke up, "And you…believe this…is for the _best_?"

It took a moment for him to answer. _Leave Sam? And Merry and Pippin? Even Rosie? And…Melonna?_

"Yes." He replied hesitantly. But Gwyn caught on. Her mouth twisted, thinking again.

"Well…" Gwyn started, "I suppose this is where we finally disagree, Frodo."

"Oh?" Frodo inquired, curious about where this was going.

"Positively," Gwyn answered deliberately, "I believe that…though if one has gone through heartache, he should not abandon those he loves for his own inner peace. I do not mean to imply you are being selfish, Frodo; I believe you are doing this with honorable intentions—wanting to be near your elderly uncle and all, but…" she shook her head.

"If I were to live in…say, this great land of Rivendell, all to erase my past and start a new future…without those I love…then I believe…I would still experience heartache. Because, no matter where I go, Frodo, my heart still hurts. My wound will never fully heal. Not even if I went to Va…_Valinor_." She smiled sadly, "To me, there is no such thing as '_moving on_'. Or even forgiveness. No one forgives me, and…" she lowered her gaze, but Frodo knew she was trying to hide her inner bitterness, "…I forgive no one."

"Well, I forgive you," Frodo responded firmly. "Melonna told me your story. She felt she had to, for now your secret had been revealed. And you know what, Gwynra?" He leaned forward slightly, "It's in the past. You're you now. You have learned, so it seems. And therefore…I see no reason to hold something against you. And neither does Hobbiton."

"_What_?" Gwyn repeated, disbelieving.

"Hobbiton—the majority of it—they'd like for you to return. They're not going to shun you or—or anything. I assure you of this: Merry, Pippin, Sam, and I have great influence over the Shire, because of our being…well, _heroes_ of the War…and believe me when I say this: right after you left the festival—Merry went up to Noakes and beat him up. He was so angry; Pippin and Sam had to hold him back. I went up front—yes, _I_ did, Gwyn, don't look at me like that—and I declared Sigismond Noakes an untrustworthy and irresponsible hobbit in the Shire, and he wasn't to be listened to."

"I may have a strange reputation of being a 'hermit crab' in that community, Gwyn, but it is far better than being a no-account like Noakes. Most of the hobbits believed me. Only the Sackville-Bagginses and their so-called loyalists are turning their backs, but fear not, you won't see them around much."

Gwyn eyed him, open-mouthed. Frodo went on, "As soon as I made the announcement, Merry and his friends dragged Sigi into an empty broom closet and locked him in, intending to bring him back out and take him to his home once the blizzard was over. Well…the blizzard didn't end until after we all had left. So we had to let him out."

"He was furious, Gwyn, and I think he would've beaten up Melonna, Merry, and me if there weren't so many hobbits against him now. Ever since, he's been skulking around his stable. His business as a stall renter and pony keeper is still open, but let's just say no one appreciates him now. They _like _you, Gwyn."

"Merry beat him up for me?" Was all Gwyn could say. And if Frodo didn't know better, he'd vow he saw a silly, starry-eyed expression cross her face. Frodo suppressed an amused smile. "Yes, he did, Gwyn." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "And I'd wager that if you looked really close at Noakes' face, you'd see where Merry broke his nose."

Gwyn giggled. "I feel guilty for saying this, but—he deserved it."

"Oh, he had it coming," Frodo nodded grimly, "What he said was about you. It was your business, not his, even if he had been partly involved. If someone knew of my story and announced it to all of Hobbiton, I'd be very, very upset. I haven't committed a crime, Gwyn, but what I've done just still puts a bad taste in my mouth."

"I understand." Gwyn replied quickly. Frodo eyed her for a minute, half-expecting she'd ask to come home with him. But she didn't. Frodo rolled his eyes impulsively, causing Gwyn to frown quizzically. "What?"

Frodo sighed. "You know, Merry misses you intensely. So does Melonna. Even Pippin, Rosie, and Diamond. Sam laments that he never got to teach you how to garden. Even I miss you; I would have liked to know you more. And my uncle—when he comes down here for the spring—he'd love you."

Their food finally arrived—piping hot and aromatic. Despite the bland, dusty conditions of the island, the food was exceptionally tasty.

Gwyn took a long sip of the tea, and replied, "I miss you all, too, and I'd love to meet your famous uncle, Frodo, but I still think it's best that I stay here."

Frodo regarded her wryly, "Then your actions contradicts your beliefs."

Gwyn chewed her meaty soup slowly. "Excuse me?" She retorted defensively between chews.

Frodo took no offense at her tone, "You're the one who told me you'd rather stay close to those you love than go somewhere to have your heartache relieved."

Gwyn wanted to chew him out with angry words—but then reasoned with herself. _He's right, you know…_

"But, Frodo," she nearly panicked, "My brother would never let me go! He'll—" she cut herself off quickly.

"He'll what, Gwyn?" Frodo prodded on concernedly.

"He—he's a little…controlling." Gwyn mumbled, looking down.

Frodo sighed. "I know that. I've met him before. But have you considered that—despite being your brother—in his mentally unstable condition, he might not safe to be around?"

"Yes!" Gwyn snapped. Realizing her anger shouldn't be directed towards Frodo, she calmed down, ignoring the curious looks of other customers. "I—I don't want him to follow me back…and _hurt_ Merry, that's all."

"He won't," Frodo assured, "Merry can protect himself. It's you that needs protecting—and Melonna."

Gwyn's eyebrows rose and a tiny smile quirked her lips. "Have an interest in Melonna, do you?"

Frodo felt himself blush, but he went on, dismissing the topic and ignoring Gwyn's amused smirk. "Please, Gwynra. Come with me. I promise you, I will not allow Griffin to detain you. You have every right to come and go as you please; your twin brother can't control you."

Indecisive, Gwyn looked away. Frodo looked down at his empty bowl and cup. He inhaled. "Well. I came here to see if my distant cousin Sancho Proudfoot could be released. He had been caught stealing from Farmer Maggot's crops, and he'd killed one of his dogs, so…but Sancho can't be released yet because his behavior has been…questionable. Sancho's parents threatened me to come here or they'd pester me even more," Frodo rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I believe that our meeting has been meaningful. I think you really ought to come back with me. Please. They would be so relieved to see you."

Gwyn glanced up at him. "After I left—did you all come looking for me?"

"Yes," Frodo answered, "But the first three weeks after your disappearance were delayed because of the blizzards. And then we searched all of The Water, The Yale, Bridgefields, Marish, Woody End, and even Buckland. Melonna went to Newbury, but apparently you hadn't been there. By the time Yuletide came around, most of Hobbiton mostly focused on the six-day festivals, but they did remain optimistic about you; they still believe you'll return. Some even come by at Merry's, asking about you—particularly Sam, Rosie, Pippin, Diamond, Berylla, and Sam's gaffer and grandmother. They all like you, Gwyn."

Stunned, Gwyn was speechless.

"Especially Merry." Frodo softened his tone, smiling knowingly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he saw you and the first thing he'd do would be kiss you."

Gwyn started, and then glowered at Frodo, but he only felt more amused. "I leave at two-oh-clock," he announced, "You have two hours to decide. Meet me at the boats if you change your mind."

Gwyn nodded, still certain she'd stay. But she felt bursts of anticipation in her, and it was as if a voice in her was crying out, _Go with him—go with him—go with him. He's your way to Merry…_

Frodo bowed slightly to her, and then left the diner. Gwyn sat there for what seemed to be the longest time. Then she returned to her inn room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The time went by. And all Gwyn did was sit in absolute silence.

Twelve-thirty. She thought of how Merry was faring with her absence. Was he sullen about it? Or did he just cover up his hurt with other things to do to keep his mind off her? Or was Frodo wrong—and Merry just didn't care at all?

Twelve fifty-five. Rosie's wedding would be in three months. What would it be like? All Gwyn knew was that there'd be roses—lots and lots of roses.

One-oh-five. How was Melonna with her cooking? Was she improving or did she and Merry have to start eating at Rosie's again?

One-fifteen. Were Pippin and Diamond engaged yet? Did Diamond find any more friends? What was the latest antic Pippin was up to?

One twenty-five. How was Mama? Cec? Mira? Swan? And Papa? Was he even still alive? It'd been over four months since she'd saw them. Was it okay to come home now?

One-thirty. Gwyn looked up at the grandfather clock again. Her time was almost up.

_But I'm staying. I'm _staying_. What am I waiting for?_

One forty-five. Griffin would arrive back soon, and Frodo would leave soon.

One-fifty. Would Griffin return in a melancholy mood? Or a merry mood?

Merry? _Merry!_

Gwyn gasped, jumping to her feet. Her hands shook with trepidation. She knew what she had to do. She raced to her closet, grabbed her dress she wore to the festival and the nightdress and extra dress from the three pairs of clothes Rudy had stolen for her. She was wearing one of them. Gwyn suddenly felt bad for wearing something that belonged to somebody else—

One fifty-one. She was running out of time. Gwyn stuffed her clothes into her sack and rushed out of the inn, not bothering to check out. Rowan called after her, but she didn't pay heed.

She looked around frantically. In her hurry, she forgot which way was the dock.

"_When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."_ Gandalf the White had told Merry on the Quest. Remembering Merry repeating the words to her, Gwyn took a long sniff.

Fishes. Thataway to the left. Gwyn took no time dawdling; she spun on her heel and raced for her life.

Panting, she reached Frodo just as he was about to push his boat into the water. "Frodo, _wait_!" She yelled.

Frodo rose and turned around. He smiled, pleased to see her. "Hello again. I hope you're not afraid of water."

Gwyn grinned. "Of course not! I'm a Bucklander. We practically could live in the water!"

Frodo laughed quietly. "Of course you could. Come, sit down here."

"We'll be stopping in Budgeford to rest the ponies for a bit," Frodo explained as he rowed. Gwyn nodded, listening as she gripped the rims of the wooden brown boat, "But we'll be home just before nightfall."

Home. Gwyn didn't know what to make of the word. Truth was—she really didn't know what _home_ was.

They reached the land, and then Frodo tied up the rented boat, and headed for the stable where all ponies stayed. Frodo introduced his ponies, Strider and Arwen, to Gwyn, and then they were off.

They stopped in Budgeford to give the horses water, and Frodo and Gwyn brought some meat and sacks of water for themselves for the rest of the trip. Being quiet folk, they rode in mostly companionable silence.

They arrived at Hobbiton when the sun was low in the sky and the horizon was taking on a faint tinge of orange.

When they were about to pass by Bag End, Gwyn held up a hand, "Oh, no, it's all right. I can take it from here."

"Are you sure?" Frodo ascertained.

"Yes. Thank you so much, Frodo." Gwyn smiled warmly. She hopped from the wagon, petted Strider as she passed him, and then walked up the road. But then fear seized her. She turned back and rushed after the wagon as it steered into Frodo's driveway. Frodo hopped down from his seat and looked at Gwyn.

"What if he throws me out?" Gwyn asked anxiously.

Frodo gave her a gentle look. "Then I don't know my cousin at all," he responded convincingly.

Gwyn felt some relief and confidence at this. She nodded sheepishly and then made her way towards Merry's hobbit-hole.

She knocked at the door. But when no one answered, she knocked, even more firmly.

No one came. Gwyn assumed no one must be home; it was nearing dinner already. Maybe they were at Rosie's or Sam's or Pippin's.

Gwyn warily reached for the doorknob located in the middle of the door, and she twisted it. It wasn't locked. She pushed it gingerly, and the next thing she saw was a nearly darkened hallway. Some light from the dining room windows and Merry's bedroom windows reflected each other, but down the hallway, the guest room, Melonna's room, and the door that led outside and to the outhouse were closed.

Gwyn stepped into the hallway and looked around. "Merry?" She called out. "Melonna?" She tried, shutting the door behind her. "I'm ho—back," she stopped herself and corrected her words.

But no one was home; she was alone. "Great. I came at a bad time," Gwyn muttered to herself. She removed the tattered, faded white cloak, missing her own nice brown one. She rushed to the guest room, wondering if her belongings had been thrown out.

But to her surprise, the guest room stood the same way as she last saw it; it even had been dusted and polished regularly. She opened the closet door and the dressers to find all of her clothes still intact.

"They did expect me to come back," Gwyn murmured aloud, her heart nearly bursting with love for Melonna and—

_What? No, no, no, I don't love Merry. At least not that way. No._

She left her cloak on her bed; feeling more convinced that Melonna and Merry would openly welcome her _home_. Was this home? Gwyn struggled with that question.

She entered the kitchen and prepared herself some tea. While she waited for the water to boil over the newly-started fire in the fireplace, Gwyn stood idly against the counter and looked around the room. She noticed new decorations that must have been Yuletide gifts. Something then caught her eye—beyond the counter, between the tables and the counter, right in the corner, was a new rocking-chair.

And it had her name on it. Right on the headboard, in beautifully designed letters: _GWYN_.

Gwyn's jaw fell apart and her eyes popped wide open. She scurried around the counter to get a closer look. Gasping softly, she reached out and fingered the smooth, recently painted and polished wood. Pine, she smelled. Just like Merry's, right across from her chair. Her rocking-chair even had a similar green, patterned cushion and footrest. Except hers was a lighter color, a tan-yellow, while Merry's was a darker brown.

A smile grew on her face, and Gwyn hesitantly turned to sit in the chair. She settled back, enjoying the gentle sway and the soft padding. She lifted her weary feet and propped them upon the footrest. She sighed, feeling blissful. She closed her eyes, relaxing fully.

_Maybe I should kiss Merry when he comes in—oh, stuff and nonsense, Gwynra Whitfoot!_

The door opened, startling Gwyn. She straightened, excited, as she heard Merry and Melonna's voices.

"I say, Melonna, if it weren't for your silly obsession with all of the snow we're getting, we wouldn't forget the bread!"

"Well, excuse me, Master Brandybuck, but I believe it was you who brought it up in the first place—mid-sentence—as you also were speaking of the bread! Who's the scatterbrained one now?"

"Oh, be quiet, cousin!"

"You—" Melonna sneered as she shot a quick glance at the dining room before proceeding to follow Merry to the coat closet, and then she did a double-take as she stared at a smiling nervously Gwyn in her rocking-chair. She was stunned speechless.

"Merry," Gwyn gave Melonna a quick smile and then called Merry's name.

He glanced at her briefly and commented distractedly, "Hullo, Gwyn." Then he ducked into the hallway—but then the loud clatter of a bridle he was holding that fell to the floor was heard. Merry stepped back into view of Gwyn, gawking at her. He looked beyond shocked. Gwyn feared he'd even faint from the utter surprise. She bit her lip, smiling warily, folding her hands in her lap, and gazing at Merry expectantly. But the cousins were still silent, staring at Gwyn as if she'd returned from the dead.

"What?" Gwyn repeated, tiring of this shock already, "I've been gone for only two months, sillies."

But instead of the usual crooked-jaw, dimpled grin Gwyn thought she'd see from Merry, the blonde hobbit only scowled deeply, tore his gaze from her, threw the second pair of bridles to the floor, and stalked out of the door, slamming it behind him.

Gwyn sagged, horrified. This was exactly what she'd pictured in the beginning. He wasn't happy to see her. He was going to kick her out. Gwyn sank back into her chair, wondering what in Middle-earth would she do now.

"Well, well, well, Gwynra Whitfoot!" Melonna sauntered over to her, placed one hand on her hip, and glared, "I have half a mind to slap you right then and there, but we're both girls, so…"

Gwyn cringed, wishing she could melt away.

Melonna's expression turned from angry to hurt, "How could you do this to us, Gwynnie? How could you just go off and disappear? Never mind what Sigi did—you were a sniveling coward, plain and simple! You should've stood up for yourself!" Melonna's voice rose with each sentence, and finally her face grew so red that she stopped herself and turned away. She then stomped away to the stove and took out the pot of boiling water, but Gwyn noticed a limp in her left foot.

"Oh, so you think you can just waltz right in and make yourself tea?" Melonna shouted hotly, setting the pot on the counter. But she set it away too fast that water sloshed out and splashed her on the hand. Melonna gave out a shriek of pain and jumped away, waving her hand, Gwyn quickly rose and walked over to a wailing Melonna, who held her hand to her chest.

She looked up at Gwyn, but instead of snarling at her like Gwyn thought she'd do, she instead sniffled and laid her head on the taller lass' shoulder and held onto her. "I hurt my foot a few weeks ago," she sniffled, "Looking for you. I missed you and wanted you to come out here and help me," she started blubbering and held onto Gwyn all the tighter.

Astonished with Melonna's drastic mood swings, Gwyn just hugged her back gently and firmly. She stroked Melonna's long blonde curls, suddenly wishing her own hair was long again.

"I am sorry," she spoke simply, knowing a heartfelt, tearful apology just wouldn't do for Melonna. Melonna preferred simplicity and straightforwardness.

Melonna sniffed and pulled back. "Don't you ever, ever run off like that again, Gwynra Whitfoot." She ordered in a broken voice. And Gwyn nodded, but she refused to promise it again this time.

"I mean it," Melonna glared, "If you do, Merry and I will find you and—and—and lock you in our cellar!"

Gwyn would've laughed if she hadn't noticed how serious Melonna was. "I understand," she nodded. Realizing about Merry, she drew in a sharp breath. "Merry—he—"

Melonna immediately understood her worry and shook her head. "He'll get over it." She assured firmly. "Uncle Scattergold did the same thing when Merry came home from the Quest. Glared at his son and stormed out. But after a few hours of cooling down at the bar, he came back home, gave Merry the biggest hug ever, and said he'd missed him very, very much. Merry takes after his father in that way, I suppose. Just you wait, he'll be back shortly after supper, I'd wager."

Gwyn nodded, still unsure but also trusting Melonna. She then twisted her mouth in indecision—but then made up her mind. "Hey, can we go now? I mean, to…this bar that Merry might go to? I want to talk to him now."

Melonna averted her gaze to the left in thought. And then in a beat, she responded, "Okay." She looked up and down at Gwyn's faded grey dress and wrinkled her nose. "You're a ragamuffin! Go change your clothes and pull on your nice cloak. And then while we walk, you're telling me what you've been up to." She demanded.

Gwyn smiled tremulously and did what she was told.

* * *

"…_To heal my heart and drown my woe…"_

Merry sullenly mulled over those words of the song he and Pippin would sing on top of the table in the Green Dragon, entertaining customers until the manager came in and bellowed at them to get off the table. He took a long sip of the ale, and shook his head, cringing at how he used to do exactly that in his younger days. Back then, to forget troubles that dwelled, he'd get drunk a few times. Pippin, too.

But after the Quest, all of the four hobbits had grown up, and now Merry and Pippin were more responsible with their choices. And especially because of hearing about Gwyn's father, Merry was very careful with his alcohol intake. Only two or three mugs a month.

But at times like this, Merry felt tempted to heal his heart and down his woe with a mug of ale or beer. But he wouldn't. He told himself that. Instead, he'd just cool down, and then come back home and give Gwyn a proper welcome home.

But, oh, how angry and confused he had been in the past two months. At first, he'd been frantic with worry, thinking she died in the blizzard. But Melonna remained optimistic and encouraged Merry to do the same. Then they searched. They searched and searched and searched. Yuletide came by, and they were still searching. Just three weeks ago, Merry had reluctantly announced that they would stop and wait to see if Gwyn would turn up.

And she did. Just less than an hour ago. Of all the _nerve_! She had a lot of gall—just waltzing right into his hobbit-hole, in tattered rags and new hairstyle and all—and heating up water for her _blasted tea_! Did she even _belong_ to that—

Merry halted his furious thoughts, and contemplated over the two months he had with Gwyn. They'd seen each other every day. They are together. They talked and laughed together. They were there for each other when one of them was feeling down.

Merry had become used to it. Unwittingly, he'd let Gwyn become a part of his life. And his _heart_. How deeply his feelings ran for her, he didn't quite know, but he knew it was a clearer, stronger sensation he felt than he ever felt for Éowyn. His feelings for Éowyn, in fact, had changed from plain infatuation to a platonic, admiring kind of love. He now viewed Éowyn as a good friend, a fellow warrior. Whatever puppy love he felt for her was gone. And now what he had once felt for her had channeled to Gwyn—only the emotions he had were more intense, more pronounced. _Is this—_

No. Whatever it was—Merry wasn't ready for it. He and Gwyn would never work out. Merry was sensible and easygoing; Gwyn was flighty and reckless. Merry had an explosive temper and a tendency to run away from serious situations by using silly humor; Gwyn held her emotions and thoughts in an invisible bottle and they did not explode like Mt. Doom until too late. Merry was confronting and bossy; Gwyn was avoidant and snappy. She was paranoid and judgmental, while Merry had good discretion and a rational sense of caution.

Gwyn wasn't all that bad, though, Merry knew. The reason he was so drawn to her was because he noticed her wounded soul. She acted because she felt. But she also was kind and understanding; she was a good listener and a good teacher. She was tender and gentle and protective. She had lovely dark eyes. And she was horrible, horrible at directions.

The only things they had in common were: extreme stubbornness and hastiness. And with _that_, they'd kill each other.

"Merry, you've been here for nearly half an hour and you haven't said a word except for 'I'll have an ale.'" Rosie's cheery voice rang into his ear as the lass sauntered up to his table. She'd just finished her shift as the dishwasher and was going to head home when she saw a broody Merry sitting over there. Broody Merry wasn't good.

"I'm fine, Rosie," Merry answered distractedly, but then knew better to be more polite to his friend. He looked up at her. "Gwyn is back."

Rosie grinned in exuberance, but noticing Merry's troubled frown, she sobered and sat down across from him. "Why don't you look happy about it, Merry?"

He sighed. "She…this is the third time, Rosie! She's left three times. Will she do it again? I have no idea. But…" he sighed again, more heavily than the last.

Rosie raised her chin in understanding. But she knew Merry enough that he'd not want to discuss any…possible feelings he had for Gwyn.

"Merry," Rosie spoke up, pondering for a word of encouragement, "I think the best solution would be: at first, welcome her home. Do act as normally as possible. Don't be awkward around her. You know, I was that way around Sam at first when he returned—but he bravely confronted me about it…we has a talk, and once I understood that he'd left for honorable reasons—and that he'd never leave again—I was able to be at ease with him once again."

"With Gwyn, you should just act normal. And them…give or take, a few weeks, talk to her about how you feel—about her tendency to run away and come back repeatedly. I know this isn't your strongest suit, Merry, but it should be done. Talking about feelings and thoughts reduces stress and tension."

Merry looked up from the lines on the table, and at Rosie. Understanding, he smiled, albeit seriously, but he felt a lot better now. "Thank you, Rosie," he replied gratefully.

Rosie could tell his spirits had been lifted, and she was relieved about that. She smiled. "Now…I should go. It's getting dark. Glad to help you, Merry." With a nod, she flounced away.

"Good night," Merry called.

"You, too!" Rosie waved merrily, "Send Gwyn my love! I've missed her so much—I'll come by tomorrow with a raspberry pie!"

Merry couldn't help but grin at that. He chuckled and looked back at his empty mug, and pushed it away. He was considering either coming home or ordering a tea when Melonna and Gwyn entered the bar. Those who remembered Gwyn from the festival clamored and waved at her merrily. Gwyn returned the gesture shyly. Merry's spirits drooped a bit, and now he was unsure once again.

"Merry…" Gwyn spoke softly, wearing a reproachful, contrite expression. Melonna kept her distance, sitting at the bar stools and ordering tea.

"I'm sorry," Merry and Gwyn admitted in unison. They glanced at each other in surprise. Merry smiled gently. "I really am. I hope I didn't make you think I wasn't happy to see you."

Gwyn looked down. "And I'm sorry for running off. I did really miss you, though. Every day. I wished to be back here." She gazed up at Merry, and that same lost-puppy expression once again made Merry want to reach out and touch her hand.

"I missed you, too," he answered. "You know, Hobbiton really likes you—"

"I know." Gwyn nodded, smiling a little. "Frodo told me. He's the one who brought me back."

"Just watch out for the Sackville-Bagginses and Proudfoots," Merry grinned.

"PROUD-_FEET_!" A holler came from the other side of the room.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Quit eavesdropping, you!" He shouted back, and Odo Proudfoot glared, but his face reddened and he looked away abruptly.

Merry looked back to see Gwyn's twinkling eyes. "Good to see you again, Gwynra Whitfoot," he smiled warmly.

She smiled back. "Good to see you again, too, Meriadoc Brandybuck."

Merry suddenly realized something. "Hey, is the plural of your name Whitfoot 'Whitfoots' or 'Whitfeet'?"

A grin spread across Gwyn's face and she looked down, giggling. "It's _Whitfoots_. We aren't as…" she lowered her voice, "…_Proud_."

Merry grinned, amused with her clever pun.

Melonna skipped up to their table, and Merry worried she'd start teasing them again. But she only smiled cheerfully, "I just finished my tea. Is it too late, or can we still go to Pippin's for at least supper?"

Merry glanced up at the wall behind Gwyn; there was the clock. It read nearing six-oh-clock. They could make it to Pippin's; they'd just be a little late.

"We're going to Pippin's hobbit-hole for supper," Merry informed, rising up and motioning for Gwyn to do the same, "Diamond is there as well. They'll be glad to see you."

"Speaking of Pippin and Diamond…" Melonna raised her eyebrows. Merry nodded, grinning wolfishly. "They're engaged."

"Already?" Gwyn exclaimed, laughing. "When is it?"

"April," Merry shook his head, "They want to tie the knot before Sam and Rosie do."

The night air was filled with Gwyn's laughter.

Merry, Melonna, and Gwyn then agreed that "nothing happened". It was in the past. They would move on, even Gwyn.

Hopefully things would take a turn for the better soon.

* * *

Trembling with fury, he watched them walk from the bar to the stable. He remained hidden in the shadows, but he was close enough to touch them. He watched him take the ponies out of the stable and take them to his wagon. The two lasses followed him, chattering gaily.

_Of all the nerve, Gwynra Whitfoot. Think you can just show up your face here again?_ His mind snarled. _Ruin my reputation—I'll ruin _you_._

They'd be sorry. Oh, they'd be so, so sorry…

* * *

**A/N: It had to be done. IT HAD TO BE DONE! But I'm sure you all DO know who'd thinking here… :) OR DO YOU? o_O Find out soon! ;D**

**TRIVIA: I originally planned on having Merry track down Gwyn and find her before Yuletide started, but I thought that plot would be a little…overused. So I decided to put Frodo in instead and push forward the timeline by two months. I rather enjoy some Frodo and interaction. :) I did kind of base Gwyn's personality off Frodo's! :P**

**Thank you! :)**


	19. Grievance

_**Chapter Nineteen: Grievance**_

* * *

**A/N: The title seems dramatic, doesn't it? Yes. Oh, dear. I am sorry to be dragging you down with all of the drama again… ;) Fortunately, there are only seven chapters to go left…oh, boy. o_O XD**

**IMPORTANT: I'm in college now…and there are strict rules regarding the Internet, and not to mention I'm ultra-super-extra busy. :P So after this chapter, I'm afraid I have to go on a hiatus. I will update during either Thanksgiving week or Christmas break, and I can't message until Christmas break. :( I don't have time to address you, I'm afraid, but just so you all remember: I am always grateful to hear from whatever you have to say about this story. :) God bless you all.**

**Unbeta'd, so forgive me for any mistakes. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

* * *

Other month and a half went by, and the snow in the Shire started to melt into slush, and everything seemed gray and brown. But the smell of spring hung thinly in the air; sure enough, April was just in a week or so.

Despite the dreary weather, Hobbiton had high spirits as spring approached with the promise of bright color, planting new crops, and weddings ahead. Already fields were being cleared, raked, hoed, and fertilized, gardening shops booming with business, and buds on trees growing.

Samwise Gamgee invited Gwyn to his house to show her how to hoe a garden. She also helped him and Rosie pick out flower and vegetable seeds to plant.

Pippin and Diamond reluctantly had moved their wedding date to July because they felt the pressure of wedding planning, but they found joy in poking at Merry about tying the knot, much to his utter irritation. But Diamond and Pippin—and all of Hobbiton—could see the blossoming romance between Gwyn and Merry. Some even dubbed them as already a-courting! _They sure act like it, minus the kissing._ Melonna snickered as she watched Frodo write. His handwriting was very proper, and the style of explanation was very vivid.

"What's so funny?" Frodo smiled, speaking a little absentmindedly as he mulled over how to describe his experience in abandoning Sam when Gollum tricked Frodo.

"Oh, just thinking about Merry and Gwyn. Frankly, I'm tired of the unresolved romantic tension between them; I just wish they'd kiss and get it over with—_Frodo_! What's wrong?" Melonna quipped, but when she saw Frodo hunch over slightly and heard his sharp intake of pain, worry seized her. Melonna gripped his shoulder lightly.

"It's…it's nothing," Frodo muttered, breathing heavily as he clutched his abdomen.

"No, please tell me," Melonna pleaded. Frodo saw the fear in her eyes and relented. Lifting his white shirt out of his suspenders, he revealed to Melonna a tiny puncture in the right of his abdomen. The scar from where Shelob stung him.

"Oh," Melonna gasped softly, gaping at his white skin and the tiny pink scar. She almost reached out to touch his seemingly well-fit abdomen, but realized it wouldn't be proper. "I am sorry—why does it hurt? Do you have medicine for it? I can—"

"No, Melonna," Frodo lifted a hand, "I do not need medicine. This wound is fully healed. It is only when…I think of when Shelob stung me, I do feel it. I recall the pain. When I felt that spider stab me, I thought of Sam and how he could've protected me had I not sent him away." He sighed heavily. "I still feel tremendous guilt from that day, Melonna. I wish I'd done things differently. I wish I'd trusted Sam and listened to him." _Like I did when he convinced me to take you to the festival._

Melonna's eyes were wide with contriteness. "I am sorry, Frodo. At least…at least it is in the past. And everything worked out."

"Not everything." Frodo disagreed, feeling the area where his finger was missing. Bitterness nearly choked him.

As if sensing his desolation, Melonna turned to the side of his chair and knelt before him. "Frodo, whatever is bothering you—you can tell me. You can trust me, you know. I swear."

Sudden fire lit in Frodo's eyes as he remembered Gollum doing exactly the same thing to him—kneeling before him and _swearing_ on the _Precious_ to serve him—saying he could _trust him_! Before he thought of what he was going to do, Frodo rose from his seat with surprising, abrupt strength. "_Don't_ swear _anything_ to me, Melonna Goldworthy!" He growled harshly. He leaned forward and shook his finger in her face. "The last person who swore to me—was the one who bit off my finger! He _betrayed_ me, Melonna," Frodo's voice lowered to a hiss.

Melonna had stumbled back and was supporting herself with her palms pressing on the floor. At first, fear had waned her face, but just as Frodo felt horror and regret with what'd he just done, Melonna's ashen face turned pink with fury and wounded pride.

She shoved herself up to her full height, which wasn't even above Frodo's shoulder blades, and glared at Frodo. "I guess we're back at square one, huh?" She snarled. Sudden grief washed over her. "And I—I thought you didn't mind my company," her voice broke. Gathering back her guarded anger, and turned on her heel and stalked out of his study.

Frodo groaned inwardly. "Melonna, wait," he called, not wanting this situation to be just like the last one. "Melonna."

But Melonna already had exited Bag End in a furious stride. She stomped out of the gate and turned down the road to her hobbit-hole. Her breathing turned vapid, and hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She knew she was probably overreacting, but…she'd never seen such…_unbridled_ vehemence from Frodo. She had no idea he was that strong, that forbidding—

A hand shot out of the bushes and grabbed her. Melonna yelped in fright as she was dragged through the bush. The branches budding leaves stung her everywhere as she yipped in indignity and fear. Finally, she fell onto the muddy, cold ground with a _thump_. Melonna cautiously opened her eyes to see who her captor was.

Sigismond Noakes panted, probably from the effort he'd done to get Melonna into the small area where mostly bushes surrounded them. He stared at Melonna darkly, and trepidation trickled into her. What was he up to?

Before she could demand answers, the disgraced hobbit spoke, "I gotta tell you something, Melonna. Gwyn gotta know. But I tried going by her beau's home, and the fat hobbit saw me and threatened me not to go close."

"The 'fat hobbit's' name is _Sam_," Melonna snapped.

"Whatever. Gwyn really gotta know this—I'm being serious, Melonna. Her—"

"You know what?" Melonna curled her lip in disgust, perturbed that Sigi would drag her into here just to rant unintelligibly about Gwyn, and also still shaken from her encounter with Frodo. She turned over onto her knees and rose slightly, avoiding hitting her head on the branches. "I've had enough of you, Sigismond Noakes. Since Hobbiton hates you so much, you're very welcome to move somewhere else along with your sorry business. Let me go."

"No!" Sigi shouted, grabbing her brusquely, knocking her back down. He held a struggling Melonna to his chest, "Listen to me—I need to talk to Gwyn. I am in love with her still, and I know she does, too. She needs to hear it from me—" he yowled as Melonna twisted and punched him in the nose. That gave her an opportunity to run.

She scrambled out of the branches, not caring about how they scratched they skin. She had to get away from Sigi. Clearly not only he was a liar, an egoist, a manipulator—he also was obsessed with Gwyn. Melonna knew she had to warn Gwyn.

Melonna raced up the road, but she heard Sigi following her. Her irregular breathing turned panicky, and she would've cried out for help if Sigi hadn't suddenly been tackled down to the ground—by Frodo. Melonna halted, breathing heavily as she watched Frodo keep Sigi pinned to the ground by his own body and sword. Frodo gasped raggedly, clearly in pain, but he'd still braved it all to rescue Melonna.

He slowly rolled off Sigi, but he kept his sword slightly poked into his upper back. Sigi lay on the gravel road, still as a stone. Fear shone on his eyes. Frodo glared at him severely. "If you go near her again—not just by ten yards but a _hundred _yards—I will cut off your hands."

Melonna stared in dismay, but she was touched that Frodo…_genuinely_ did care for her well-being. It didn't mean he cared _for _her, though.

"I…I just gotta tell Gwyn something, but the fat hobbit—"

"I'll cut out your tongue as well if I hear you refer to him that way again!" Frodo shouted. Melonna knew the two words bothered him immensely because it was what the gangrel creature Gollum had called Sam.

"Okay! Okay!" Sigi whined. "But I swear, this is important…"

Frodo seemed hard-pressed on not to stab him when he said _"I swear"_, but he just pushed one foot on his back, pressed down, and leaned slightly. "Tell me what she needs to know, and I will tell her myself." He spoke in a low, threatening tone.

Sigi sighed in defeat. "Her father's dead." He informed flatly.

The news hit Melonna in the face like an ice-cold washcloth. "What?" She squeaked.

"Honest, for true," Sigi turned his wary glance on her, "I went to Newbury yesterday, and Swan told me that Isengar Whitfoot had died in the night before. Gwyn's mother and brother saw me and ordered me to go tell Gwyn."

Dread rippled through her. But doubt still prevailed. She narrowed her eyes at the fallen hobbit. "Do you promise that is the truth? If it is a lie, then _I_ shall cut out your tongue." She allowed the serious threat to ring loud and clear in the air.

"It _is_ the truth," Sigi insisted, his eyes bright rather than the usual hidden, dark shadow that hovered in there. "If Gwyn does not believe, then tell her to go see for herself."

Melonna glanced up at Frodo, horrified. Frodo seemed just as despondent as she. They both knew that Gwyn hadn't seen her father in six months…and now it was too late.

Frodo then turned his attention back to Sigi, glared, and shoved him away. "Get out of here," he ordered. "And not only Melonna you will stay away from—Gwyn is off-limits as well!"

Sigi looked as if he wanted to sneer a spiteful comment, but the look in Frodo's eyes silenced him, and he scrambled away without other glance at Frodo or Melonna.

Frodo watched Sigi's retreating form, and then turned around to face Melonna. The poor lass had scratches over her face, arms, and legs, and she'd been crying. Her hair had twigs in them, and all she did was stand there in a semi-catatonic state. She held her left arm over her right, as if trying to protect herself from something. But the look on her face was unnerving Frodo. Was that how he looked when Shelob paralyzed him?

"Melonna," Frodo spoke urgently, striding over and shaking her lightly. She finally snapped out of it, glanced up at Frodo, and she suddenly started weeping. "Oh, Frodo, what am I going to do? What will Gwyn…"

"Oh, Melonna," Frodo pulled her close, hugging her to his chest, not quite caring about the fact that they were standing in the middle of the street. He found he loved the feel of her warm, small body in his arms. He wove his fingers through her feathery soft curls, holding back a shaky gasp. The effect Melonna had over him…it was nothing like he'd ever experienced before.

Realizing the feelings that were aroused within him weren't appropriate for this time, Frodo pulled away slightly. He gazed down at Melonna's tear-stained face. "Come on," he shifted hr to underneath his right arm, guiding her along. "I think we should inform Gwyn," he continued softly. The miserable girl only nodded silently, making Frodo feel even worse.

Sam on his wagon rounded the curving road. He slowed down his steed, and concern crossed his face when he saw a slightly bleeding, red-eyed Melonna wrapped under the crook of Frodo's arm. Frodo gazed up at his friend sadly. "Mister Frodo, I was about to get to your place…but, Miss Melonna, what happened to you?"

Frodo sighed. "Can you take us to Merry's, Sam, and I'll explain."

"Of course," Sam nodded, strangely flustered. He reached down to help the two of them up, and as he turned around his ponies, Frodo told him what happened. As expected, Sam was dismayed, and he stroked Melonna's shoulder in an awkward, yet sweet gesture of comfort.

The three felt even more depressed when they unhitched the wagon, went up to Merry's door, and then saw Merry and Gwyn walking down alongside Merry's crop. They were laughing, the wind blowing through their hair, golden and black locks mingling together. In one hand Gwyn held her shawl, and in the other hand she had her fingers interlocked with Merry's hand.

Melonna inhaled raggedly, and bravely walked up to them. Merry and Gwyn stopped to greet their friend with bright smiles, but they quickly faded as they noticed Melonna's injuries. And then Melonna gave them the news.

Frodo and Sam watched with sadness as Gwyn's posture turned rigid and panicked, and she pulled her hand away from Merry's. She seemed as if she wanted to bolt, but apparently wouldn't. Melonna was moving around her hands a bit, trying to be as gentle with Gwyn as possible. Merry glanced down at Gwyn sympathetically and said something to her. Frodo and Sam weren't within earshot, so they didn't know what Merry was saying.

But the message became clear when Gwyn nodded and then rushed towards the stable. Merry was letting Gwyn return home by using his ponies as transportation.

Merry and Melonna walked down the hill to Frodo and Sam. Merry watched Gwyn's retreating figure dismally. "This is my fault, I never encouraged her to go visit her father at all, and she never said anything about it…I am so insensitive." His lip curled in uncharacteristic self-deprecation.

"Oh, stop it, Merry," Melonna rolled her eyes, still in an angry, upset state, "This is not your fault at all. Gwyn made her choice to stay here—besides, she was obeying her mother's wishes on _not_ to come home until notified to do so."

Merry averted his gaze to Melonna. "Do you think I should go with her?"

Melonna shrugged lazily. "You ask her."

He nodded grimly and passed by them. "Feel free to go inside," he informed Melonna, Frodo, and Sam.

Sam looked at Melonna and Frodo sympathetically. "I was about to pay you a visit, Frodo, but…"

"You can still," Frodo nodded, "But…this turn of events has me rather discouraged."

"If Sigi _is_ lying, I'll stove his head in," Melonna muttered darkly.

Frodo didn't wholeheartedly approve of Melonna's attitude, but he did wholeheartedly dislike Sigi—especially after what he did to Melonna. His gut trembled at the memory of seeing Sigi grab Melonna into the bushes, and then her escaping and Sigi chasing after her. Frodo wasn't the strongest hobbit, but he was agile.

"I will go back home," Sam decided aloud. "Do tell me how things are when Gwyn returns."

"I will," Melonna nodded as she watched Gwyn ride away with Posie…and without Merry. Merry instead was walking up the hill to them.

"She wanted to go alone," Merry announced, "Said her mother and brother might not take too kindly to me. I understand that."

Sam gave his friends a final look of goodbye before he returned to his wagon. Melonna, Merry, and Frodo watched him and Gwyn go in opposite directions.

"I'll go back inside," Merry muttered. Melonna knew he was trying to get his mind off this situation. "Make some tea," Merry mumbled to himself as he went up to his door. Melonna sighed and hugged herself, rubbing her cold arms.

Frodo suddenly felt the urge to pull her close once again, but he resisted. Instead, he leaned slightly, inspecting her scraped-up face. A cut slashed across her lower right cheek, ranging from the lip to the chin. Other scar lay above her eyelid but under the eyebrow. A third was located in the middle of her left cheek. Melonna sensed his observation and glanced up at him. Feeling ashamed by the ugly cuts, she then looked away.

"You should put some liniment on that," Frodo commented softly, seriously. "And on your arms as well. Your dress is ripped."

"Yes," Melonna nodded curtly. She turned to leave, but Frodo quickly took her arm gently. "Melonna, wait. I….I'm sorry." He sent her his most contrite look.

"It's okay," Melonna shrugged and pulled away. Frodo let her go sadly, knowing it wasn't just he that bothered her. Today had been quite a dismal day.

* * *

By nightfall, Merry was anxiously pacing around the dining room. He paused every few minutes to look out of the window. Melonna sat in her rocking-chair, sewing. Her chair was located across the room from Gwyn and Merry's rocking-chairs, making a nearly triangular shape around the curved room.

"Why isn't she here yet?" Merry wove his hand through his curls. His despondency all afternoon gave way into anxiety and frustration as nighttime arrived.

"Her father just died, Meriadoc," Melonna answered with a slightly condescending tone, "She's grieving with family and making funeral plans. Don't expect her to return for a day or two."

The scathing reply made Merry stop short. Melonna was right—who was he to expect Gwyn to return right away? He sighed and flailed his hands as he got into his rocking-chair. He rested his head against the headboard and tried to relax.

But no sooner after his muscles finally gave away to wilting in the chair, the rattle of a wagon was heard. Suddenly alert, Merry tensed and rose from his rocking-chair. Melonna just rocked, sewing. She'd been quiet and sullen all day, bothering Merry to no end.

Moments later, the door opened. Gwyn entered the hobbit-hole. Merry couldn't read her expression until she came out of the hallway and into the bright dining room. Merry almost jumped when he saw her cold expression. "He is dead," Gwyn spoke automatically, "I will return to Newbury tomorrow to help Mother and Cecilius with the funeral arrangements. The funeral is at the end of this week."

Melonna had slowly raised her gaze from her sewing and now stared at Gwyn with worry. This Gwyn was the same Gwyn she'd saw when Ada and Ilberic died. Gwyn had acted as if she didn't care, she'd put up a false strength and "moved on". But the anguish was evident in her dark eyes.

Merry recognized her behavior as inappropriate; she shouldn't shut herself out, and others. She needed to release her grief. "Gwyn," he said her name as gently as he could, placing a hand on her shoulder, "This isn't right. It's okay—let it out. We're your friends. I am here for you."

Gwyn looked up at him, her expression hard as stone. "I don't know what you're talking about, Merry." She shrugged his hand off and turned back into the hallway.

Merry shot Melonna a bewildered look. Melonna waved her hand towards the hallway, mouthing _Go after her._

Merry jumped on his heel and rushed towards Gwyn, who was walking in a stiff gait into her room. "Gwyn, wait," Merry demanded as gently as possible.

Gwyn turned around, standing in her doorway. "What do you need?" She replied in a slightly terse manner.

"I need you…" Merry slowly reached for her face, longing to feel her cool, smooth skin, "…To let it out. Don't shut us out. I need you to cry. You know you want to."

Gwyn jerked away from Merry, her eyes suddenly sparking fire. "You don't understand. You don't know what's it's like to lose someone you love. Especially someone who you haven't seen in months…" Gwyn's face flushed, and she cried shrilly, "This is all your fault, Merry!" With that, she whirled around and prepared to slam the door, but Merry was stronger and blocked the door with his body, forcing himself in.

Gwyn stiffened, standing to her full height as she pinned herself protectively against the wall behind her door. Merry could tell she was in an irrational state—she was prepared to fight him, but Merry wasn't going to. He found Gwyn's behavior ridiculous. He stepped forward and gripped her arms, frowning at her. "You listen here, Gwynra Whitfoot. You have no idea of how much—how much—I do understand."

He felt himself tremble as he recalled the scene when the Nazgûl king's beast killed King Théoden's horse and mortally wounded him. He hadn't finished his story to Gwyn and Melonna yet, because they had been caught up in other things. But he decided to thrust forward and tell her the darkest piece of his story—the part he found too painful to speak of.

"I knew of this great king—Théoden of Rohan. He was noble, gentle, and just. His son died, but he kept on bravely ruling, and he raised his orphaned nephew and niece Éomer and Éowyn. King Théoden, Éomer, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gandalf came to Isengard to find Pippin and me. Théoden generously offered us shelter in his realm, and he…he became like a father to me, Gwyn." Merry inhaled shakily, loosening his grip on Gwyn. Gwyn was white-faced and silent, but she listened intently.

"I'd been without my father for nearly half a year, so being in the company of Théoden was of great comfort to me. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf were honorable mentors, but none of them reminded me of Father as much as Théoden did. When Pippin looked into the palantír and put his own life in danger, Gandalf took him to Minas Tirith. I then felt so alone, Gwyn. The only one left in my life that I had known for so long—gone. But Théoden came to me later on and gave me words of comfort. I then offered him my sword, and he dubbed me esquire of Rohan. It was a great honor."

"But when he refused to allow me to join the war on the Pelennor Fields, I felt disgraced. Then later on, Éomer told me it was because Théoden did not want me to be killed; he wanted me to be safe. Strangely, I had reminded him of his own deceased son, Théodred. Théoden had refused my service in war because he did not want me to meet the same demise."

"Éowyn, however, helped sneak me into battle. She and I rode together, and we saw Théoden get brutally attacked by the Witch-king's fell beast. If Éowyn and I hadn't intervened, it would have been too late…" Merry let go of Gwyn, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "…But it was, anyway. I stumbled and wandered away, injured from stabbing the Witch-king in the back. I was unconscious on the Fields for a while…the next thing I knew, Pippin rescued me and he brought me to Minas Tirith. There, I learned that Théoden had died."

Merry watched Gwyn's face droop in horror and sadness. Merry thinned his lips, and then continued, "I shall tell you more later…but now, you must understand, that…I do know how you feel. I miss him every day; I am grateful that I still have my real father here…but…to see Théoden, just for one more time…would be a great blessing and honor for me. When he died…I cried. I didn't just cry, but I cried hard and long…and afterwards, I felt better. I still was grieved, but…I now know that my king, my father from Rohan, is in a better place. He is at peace. And you know what? Your father might be, too. Receive some comfort in that."

Just at those soft, tender words, Gwyn's face crumpled. And just feeling Merry's warm, rough, but tender hands reach slowly through her hair, stroking her cheeks, made Gwyn collapse. She leaned forward suddenly, burying her face into Merry's chest, sobbing.

Merry immediately wrapped his right arm around her back and his left hand pressed the back of her head close. Gwyn then wrapped her arms around Merry's waist, realizing her feelings for him, and her desperate need to _feel safe_.

For what seemed to be the longest time, Merry just held Gwyn close to him as she cried.

* * *

**A/N: Well…the end of the teen-numbered chapters. Hello, chapters Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, and so on…I think I'll end this story at the twenty-sixth chapter…we'll see… :) Read and review, loves!**

**TRIVIA: I noticed how in the book ****The Return of the King****, Merry and King Théoden were particularly close; in fact, in Chapter (?) Merry laments on how Théoden was like a father to him. I was kind of disappointed that Peter Jackson didn't install that relationship in the film trilogy as deeply, so I went bookverse-wise on the Merry/Théoden story in this. :)**

**God bless every one of you…I'll miss you! Especially you, Estie. Good luck with your wedding; I'm praying for you!**

**See you again in late November or early December. :)**


	20. Tastes Like Bliss

_**Chapter Twenty: Tastes Like Bliss**_

* * *

**A/N: Because of the loss in Gwyn's family (and more hobbit drama), I can only provide you with a semi-fluffy chapter…I hope you enjoy! :)**

**I've decided to end this story at the twenty-sixth chapter. I have one major plot twist, and one major adventure coming up. The chapters will be a little long, because I need to wrap things up for the ending! :) I am feeling particularly optimistic that I will end this story by the end of summer. :D Cross your fingers and pray!**

**Still in college. :P But home for the holidays. :D Let's see if I can finish this story before January 9****th****…cross your fingers and pray!**

**Thanks once again to all who have reviewed, favorited, and alerted. I truly appreciate it. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

* * *

A week later, and Isengar Whitfoot's funeral had passed. Now it was April, and less than thirty days until Sam and Rosie's wedding. Rosie had offered Melonna and Gwyn to quit help preparing for the wedding so they could have time to grieve.

But while Gwyn jumped at the offer, Melonna refused and continued on helping. Gwyn traveled back and forth from Hobbiton to Newbury and back so often that Merry rented a horse from Sam for Gwyn. Merry and Melonna asked Gwyn if her mother still hadn't approved of her stay in Newbury, and Gwyn responded that this was the case, so therefore, she kept returning to Hobbiton.

Isengar Whitfoot's funeral had been a melancholy occasion, complete with a gray sky and light rain. Gwyn's father was buried next to the Brandywine River, a favorite place of his.

Only Donnamira Jumpswell, Swanahilda Banks, and Isengar's relatives came to attend. None of Malva's came. Melonna and Merry even attended to pay their respects, but Merry left early because he felt unnerved by Gwyn's mother's hostile scrutiny, much to Gwyn's understanding and advice.

Griffin never showed up, much to everyone's expectations. Melonna wondered if it was because he probably couldn't be located, so he was never notified. Gwyn never told Malva and Cec where he was, apparently, much to Melonna's confused suspicions. Why would Gwyn not tell her mother and Cec where Griffin was?

Melonna chewed on a piece of taffy as she watched Mira and Gwyn converse with each other as Mira was helping Gwyn shuffle through her father's possessions that he had left to Malva, Cec, Griffin, and Gwyn.

Malva inherited what money they had left, their sod house, the furniture, and an heirloom wristband. Cec, undoubtedly, was now Newbury's official healer and owned his father's clinic. But he still wouldn't make much money, for no one in Newbury got hurt or sick very often. Griffin inherited the family horse and wagon, which resided in the town's stables. Gwyn inherited her father's fishing-pole, net, and staff, and a hidden raft had been found in the cellar that went to Gwyn as well. All of Isengar's clothes would be sold, for they did not fit Cec.

"I wish Griffin came," Mira lamented while folding up one of Isengar's breeches. His clothes would be brought to the local dressmaker's shop and put up for low price. Melonna swallowed her taffy and peeked up at Gwyn as she pulled a tunic out of the laundry basket.

Guilt flickered across Gwyn's eyes, but she cleverly hid it. "I know. He would be devastated to hear the news."

Melonna narrowed her eyes. Gwyn wasn't bothering to inform Mira of Griffin's secret location.

"He was such a nice hobbit, your father," Mira commented nostalgically. "I even remember him when I was little. He always brought me taffy or a little cookie or even a piece of pie—all smuggled from your mother." She chuckled softly.

Gwyn managed a tiny smile. "I don't seem to remember him doing that."

Mira giggled, despite the sober mood in the house. Melonna observed Malva look up from the table as she wrote thank-you letters to those who had cared to give consolation gifts. Malva frowned at Mira's positive mood slightly, but made no fuss about it.

"…You weren't here back then, silly." Melonna's focus went back to her friends.

"What do you mean?" Gwyn's head snapped up. "I've always been here since birth."

"No," Mira shook her head, disagreeing. Her fading smile froze on her pale, freckled face, "I remember when we first met. You were four."

"Then you must've moved here when you were six," Gwyn looked down at the clothes once again.

"I was born here! _You_ moved here." Mira declared, confused, Melonna set down the tunic, just as confused. She then noticed Malva's attention had been turned to the girls' debate.

Mildly exasperated, Gwyn shot a glance towards her mother. "Wasn't I born here, too, Mama? You always told me that, didn't you?"

"Of course you were, child," Malva replied. "Isengar and I moved here from Standelf right before Cecilius was born, and we have been here ever since. You and Griffin and then…_she_ was born in my very bed," she spoke with finality in her tone, and she didn't even flinch when she mentioned Isengar or the pronoun belonging to _Ada_. Melonna observed how Malva's face paled, however, with an emotion that she couldn't deduce.

"There you go," Gwyn confirmed without smugness, folding up a pair of breeches. Mira still seemed befuddled but she nevertheless waved it off with a shrug and continued folding. Melonna subtly surveyed Malva's expression turn back to normal, and then with one more furtive glance, the older hobbit woman began writing again.

Melonna shook off her confusion as well. She was tired, she still felt empty from Isengar Whitfoot's death, and recalled that Mira just had a tendency to confuse her memories.

"I think you should go now." Malva's voice rang through the silent house a few minutes ago. Gwyn glanced up, eyebrows upraised. "We aren't done folding clothes, Mama."

"I know," Malva nodded once, "But the marketplace becomes even busier during this time of the day. I don't want you to face those people, especially in this time. You need to be safe back in Hobbiton with Melonna, dear."

Melonna's eyebrows shot up. She'd never heard Malva give Gwyn a term of endearment before. All her life, Melonna always had viewed Malva Whitfoot as a competent, patient mother, but also cool and reserved. The only child Malva ever had shown the most favor and kindness to was _Ada_.

"All right, Mama. Do you want us to drop those off at the used clothes shop on our way out?" Gwyn asked.

"No," Malva shook her head, suddenly frowning. "Mayor Whitfoot's sister-in-law works there. I will go myself. You go straight to Hobbiton, Gwynra."

"Yes, Mama." Gwyn bowed her head obediently, but Melonna could tell she resented still being "exiled".

Mira nodded once and rose, patting down her stack of clothes, and Gwyn and Melonna followed along. "Goodbye, Gwyn. Goodbye, Melonna." Mira hugged both girls. "I hope to see you two again." She turned to face Malva. "Um…good day, Missus Whitfoot—"

"It's _Miss_ Whitfoot," Malva retorted savagely. "I am a widow now."

"Uh—yes, ma'am," Mira stammered, blushing fiercely. She left quickly without other glance.

"Mother, don't be so rude," Gwyn protested, "She's my friend."

"And the daughter of the mayor. Whose son you _allegedly_ killed." Malva shot back.

"I did _not_ kill him! Or do you not believe me?" Gwyn cried.

Melonna quickly stepped in, tiring of this raging bitterness before mother and daughter. "Let it go, you two," she spoke firmly, gripping Gwyn's wrist and pulling her towards the door.

Malva seemed very much calmed down now. She exhaled, and then sent Gwyn a sorrowful look. "Goodbye, dear." She sighed, and then went back to writing. Gwyn looked on with muted and confused emotions, allowing Melonna escort her outside.

Melonna sighed loudly, partly dragging Gwyn down the small, grassy lawn of the Whitfoots' property. Once they padded across the cobblestone streets, Gwyn picked up her pace, letting Melonna link her arm around hers.

"Well?" Melonna sent the taller lass a reproachful look.

"Well what?" Gwyn replied, looking distracted as she avoided the bystanders' curious and sometimes leery gazes.

Melonna glared at them. _Judgmental, gullible pigs!_ "Gwyn, you know you can just hop on the town circle's fountain, and declare your innocence—"

"_No_!" Gwyn whispered back, a little too loudly. "They won't believe me. Only Sigismond can convince them of the truth—since he was the one who made the accusation in the first place."

Melonna shook her head. "Must you be a coward? Like your brother?"

Fury burned in Gwyn's eyes, but she did not respond. She pulled Sam's pony, Galadriel, and the wagon out of the stall. "Hop on," she said to Melonna as she mounted the wagon, grabbing the reins.

"Gwyn!" A voice cried out. Melonna whirled around, nearly stumbling as her foot detached from the high step to the wagon.

"Oh, I didn't mean to scare you, Melonna," Swanahilda Banks sent her an apologetic look before turning her attention onto Gwyn once again.

"It's okay," Melonna acknowledged as she remounted.

"Gwyn," Swan spoke up again, "How are you doing? I haven't seen you since the funeral. And before that…_months_!"

"I'm doing all right, I suppose," Gwyn managed a sad smile. "My friends in Hobbiton have been there for me through this ordeal."

Swan smiled warmly. "I am glad about that. I miss you, Gwyn. I hope you can return to Newbury for good soon."

"I miss you, too," Gwyn replied a bit shyly. "We must go now, Swan. Thank you for your comfort."

"You're welcome. Have a safe trip." the towheaded hobbit smiled gently and stepped back, waving at Gwyn and Melonna. They waved back and rode away.

Along the way, Melonna breathed in the dense, humid April air. Feeling awkward, she tried to break the silence with a joke. "So…I can't believe you've known Merry for seven months and you two haven't kissed yet…" she grinned impishly.

But to her surprise, instead of retorting with a smart jab or even a snicker—or a blush—Gwyn snapped, "Do you want me to tease you about you and Frodo, or would you rather stop?"

Taken aback, Melonna fell silent. She bit her lip and looked away, wondering at Gwyn's brusque attitude.

It was strange. Seven months ago, it would've been pretty much typical of Gwyn…but she'd changed so much—for the better. She'd willingly let Melonna and Merry—and even Rosie, Sam, Pippin, Diamond, and Frodo—in her life and heart. She'd found a confidant in Melonna and a comforter in Merry. She was finally starting to trust people, starting to forgive her past… Melonna wondered over Gwyn's dark mood on the rest of the trip.

And _now_? What had possessed Gwyn to revert back to her old self? Her mother, perhaps. And…maybe _guilt_? Mustering her courage, Melonna inhaled before tentatively asking, "Gwyn?"

"Yes?" Gwyn replied in a distracted monotone.

"I…I need to ask you something."

"What is it?" Gwyn glanced at her briefly before focusing on the road again.

Melonna sighed. "Why did you reserve information on where Griffin was from your mother and Cec?" She inquired quietly, studying her dusty fingers.

Gwyn averted her eyes to Melonna, and she saw fear in the other lass' eyes. Melonna's eyebrows rose, her suspicions nearly confirmed.

But then Gwyn replied firmly, "By last week, I wasn't even sure if Griffin was still on Girdley Island. For all I know, he could be at the other side of the Shire. It's been two months now. I didn't want to trouble Mother and Cec with looking for him."

Melonna frowned. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Gwyn replied tensely.

Melonna looked back at her fingers, contemplating. "Gwyn…if I were you, I'd be honest and tell my mother where Griffin was."

Gwyn hunched up her shoulders, as if trying to pull up an invisible shield in case Melonna "attacked" her, and then she relaxed again, shrugging, "I know, but…"

"But _what_?" Melonna prodded reproachfully. "Is there really an excuse for omission, Gwyn? Even if Griffin did move somewhere else, I think your mother and brother still did have a right to know."

Gwyn sighed, clearly getting irritated. "Why do you care?" She asked, maneuvering the horses around the curve, passing Bag End. Melonna saw Frodo walk up to his hobbit-hole. He waved at her, but she was too caught up in her discussion with Gwyn to notice.

"Because he's your brother!" Melonna stated. "Your _family_. I would feel so betrayed if…_Merry_ died and no one told me, Gwyn."

Gwyn's eyes flickered. "Like how Griffin betrayed me?" She shot back in a quiet, dangerous tone.

Frustrated, Melonna slapped the wooden seat. "Why are you holding a grudge against him? It's in the past—like Merry said!"

"Why can't you let _this_ go?" Gwyn growled, clearly controlling herself to be gentle with Galadriel as she nudged her forward to Rosie's hobbit-hole. Melonna was to be there to bake cakes and pies for Rosie's bridal shower tomorrow, and then Gwyn would return Galadriel to Sam.

"I can't," Melonna declared, "Because I'm so annoyed with this, Gwyn. We're back on square one—with all of your paranoia and bitterness…all I wanted to know was _the truth_!"

"What _truth_?" Gwyn almost shouted, glaring at Melonna furiously, slapping the reins to push Galadriel in a canter. No doubt she wanted to get away from Melonna as soon as possible.

"The truth on why you didn't tell Griffin about your father's death! Do you _hate_ him, Gwyn? Do you honestly think _ill _of him, Gwyn?"

Gwyn gathered a ragged breath, searching frantically for Rosie's hobbit-hole. She quickly steered Galadriel into the driveway. She jumped down from the wagon and pulled out sacks of flour and sugar and cartons of eggs from the wagon. Melonna scampered down the wagon and accepted the supplied from Gwyn's arms.

"Please help me," she pleaded tersely over her shoulder. Gwyn narrowed her eyes but complied, carrying more flour and sugar.

They entered the empty hobbit-hole. Rosie was out shopping with Sam's sisters, so Melonna would have the kitchen to herself all afternoon. She silently prayed that she'd get everything right. _Please, please, please._

Gwyn set the flour and sugar on Rosie's oak table and then turned to leave, but Melonna stopped her. "Wait."

Gwyn refused to face her, but she stood still, one hand gripping the back of a chair.

"You don't have to do this," Melonna tried to be gentler this time, "Don't shut us out. Tell me how you feel. Trust me, I will not judge you. I'm not like those folk in Newbury; I'm your _friend_. I want to help you."

But those words made Gwyn whirl around and stalk towards Melonna. "_Trust_ you?" She cried, "_Help_ me? What makes you think I need help? I'm the victim here, while Griffin chooses the life of a cowardly criminal, and my mother has me living like a thief and a runaway! Think again, and you'll understand who _really_ needs help here!"

Shocked and angry at Gwyn's self-defeating words, Melonna couldn't stand it anymore. "Fine, then, Gwynra Whitfoot," she seethed hatefully, "If you prefer to be this way, then you certainly don't deserve my Merry at all. You deserve someone like—_Sigi_!"

Gwyn's eyes widened at those words, and then the next thing Melonna knew, she was stumbling back with an _ooof_.

She regained balance, holding onto her pained cheek. Dismayed, she slowly moved her gaze back to Gwyn. Eyes wide and mouth agape, she was speechless.

Horrified, Gwyn stared at Melonna and then back at the vile hand that she'd used to slap Melonna. "Oh," she whispered hoarsely, realizing her actions. Remorse filled her. "Melonna, I'm so sor—"

"Say no more," Melonna suddenly cried out, retreating into the kitchen, "Just go home!" She burst into tears, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

* * *

Frodo walked up the steps to Rose Cotton's hobbit-hole. Her family was on a trip, and Rosie was out in the marketplace with friends. Frodo knew Rosie was having a bridal shower tomorrow, and Melonna had offered to bake sweets for the party tomorrow. When he'd seen Gwyn and Melonna ride by Bag End, he'd heard their heated argument. Concerned, he decided to go over as soon as he finished cleaning up his pony stable before he went over to Bree to pick up Uncle Bilbo. Once everything was cleaned out and Frodo had taken a quick bath, he'd gone over to Rosie's.

First, he stopped at Merry's hobbit-hole. But Merry was far out in the field, planting, and he didn't hear Frodo call him. So he'd knocked at the door, hoping Gwyn would answer. She didn't—but Frodo thought he'd heard muffled sobs from inside.

So he decided to visit Melonna at Rosie's hobbit-hole. His stomach flip-flopped at the thought of seeing her. Annoyed, he twisted his mouth as he forced away thoughts of holding Melonna in his arms.

He entered the hobbit-hole cautiously, looking around. He heard the faint sound of pots and pans clanking. And then a cry of pain.

Worried, Frodo rushed over to the kitchen and opened the door—to see a massive mess before him. Flour lined atop the counter, slowly dissolving smoke from the fireplace, an egg on the floor, and icing all over…Melonna. The little hobbit lass sat in a slumped heap on the floor. She sniffled, and a tear stained her flour-streaked face.

"Melonna?" Frodo questioned, concern furrowing his brow. Melonna glanced up at him. It took a second for her to realize her surroundings. "Oh," she gasped softly, glancing about. "Frodo—hello, I…"

Frodo then noticed her hand; it was burned. He walked over and knelt before her. "Did you burn yourself?" He asked, taking the hand in his.

Melonna nodded, wiping away a tear. "I also burned the apple-cinnamon muffins. And I thought I was doing so well."

Frodo glanced up at the counters, where two carrot cakes, three apple pies, and four different kinds of tarts in dozens all sat, aromatic and lovely. Impressed, Frodo glanced back at her. "It's just muffins. I can tell you did well."

"Thank you," Melonna sighed dejectedly, and then pulled away her hand to suck on her burn, but Frodo stopped her. "No, that won't help," he chided, and gently rubbed the hand, avoiding the burnt part. He could tell Melonna didn't want to speak of the troubles on her mind right now, and he respected that.

"Frodo…" Melonna stared down at the ground, clearly troubled and grieved, "Have you…have you ever experienced having someone you care about…not see her own flaws and not see that she's only hurting herself? Don't you ever feel…hopeless? That you'll never recover from pain?"

Frodo knew she was speaking of Gwyn. "Yes, I have, Melonna. But I think Sam's experienced it even more…regarding me."

Melonna's eyes rose to meet his, startling Frodo with their oceanic, deep orbs. "The Ring. It was taking its toll on me, Melonna. For a while, I let myself grow attached to it. I stopped eating. I barely slept, and when I did, my hand would be wound around the Ring." He grimaced at the memory. "Sam confronted me at one point, but I lashed out at him. The Ring made me proud and angry. I thought I did not need help…it wasn't until when I almost killed Sam when I realized the dire consequences of falling into temptation of the Ring."

Melonna's eyes widened dubiously. "You…almost…_killed_…_Sam_?" She enunciated.

Frodo nodded somberly. "Yes. I nearly gave up the Ring to the Nazgûl, and when Sam stopped me, I was still hazy under the Ring's power that I nearly stabbed Sam. Then he cried…begged me to come back…and I realized what I'd just nearly done. I almost killed my brother."

Melonna swallowed hard, watching Frodo with an emotional, intense expression. Frodo continued, "That wasn't the only time, Melonna, when I almost succumbed into the will of the Ring. And though…though the Ring is long gone, I still feel…hopeless, sometimes. I feel the pain…every…single day."

This time Melonna placed her hand over Frodo's, which still held Melonna's hurt hand. "That's why you're going to Valinor?"

"Yes," Frodo whispered. _But now I doubt I will feel any differently when I leave you…_

"Then…" Melonna gave a little shrug, "I have no hope."

Frodo's gaze flickered up to her sorrowful, lovely face. "No," he replied gently. "No, don't say that."

When Melonna looked at him questioningly, Frodo thought up a favorite quote of his from his mother. "My mother always used to say to me and Father, in times of trouble, _'Hold up your lovely face, push off your heavy burden, wash away your hot tears, kiss away your dark troubles, and…all you will…taste'_…"

Frodo felt an electrical surge beckoning him forward as he observed intently across Melonna's face, the fair skin, the faint freckles across her round nose, the dark eyes…he lifted up her chin with his two fingers and thumb. He ignored her look of bewilderment and succumbed into his desires, "…_'Is bliss.'_" He finished before pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her as lightly as a feather, but the softness and warmth of her mouth only kindled a fire inside of him, and he deepened the kiss as he moved his hand along her cool, soft cheek.

Then he heard Melonna's sigh of bliss, and he finally came to his senses. He slowly pulled away, breathing a bit heavily.

Melonna's eyes fluttered open, and then she gasped softly, realizing what'd just happened. Feeling momentarily scared, Frodo masked his uncertainty with a slightly guarded, yet tender expression. And then the grandfather clock from the hallway tolled, announcing three-oh-clock.

"I must go," he informed quietly. With that, he rose and left the hobbit-hole.

And his emotions were once again in turmoil.

* * *

**A/N: I originally planned to add more to this, but then decided to save it for the next chapter. :) I can't believe it's almost over. :O Only six more chapters to go! Just saying, though, those chapters will be really long. I think. :P**

**Reviews. Because you like this story. Right? :)**


	21. Downward Spiral

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Downward Spiral**_

* * *

**A/N: Well…I'm back. :) But not for long. :( I will have to disappear again on January 7****th**** and not return until…the end of March, I think. And then after a week-long spring break, I'll disappear again until…the end of May, most likely. And then I'll be free to write and update and review anytime all summer long. :D Hallelujah!**

**Are you ready? ARE YOU READY? ;) Read on…**

**Unbeta'd. As usual. :P But I give my beta reader mecherry credit for the scene of Merry and Griffin's fight. Thank you for that idea! :)**

**Thank you all for your reviews and favorites and alerts; I promise to reply to each one of you wonderful people as soon as I can. :) I send every one of you hundreds of virtual hugs and chocolate cookies! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Lord of the Rings**_**. All rights belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema.**

* * *

Gwyn didn't tell Merry she'd slapped Melonna. She was afraid of how he'd react. Merry was very protective of Melonna, she knew. They were more like brother and sister than cousins. Merry always had told her that whenever Pippin wasn't there, Melonna was.

It was kind of like Griffin and Gwyn in the pre-That Dark Day times. Griffin and Gwyn had been two peas in a pod. Twin black sheep of the family. Bread and jam. Bees and honey. And whenever Griffin wasn't there…Melonna or Mira were. For Griffin, it was either Cec or Ilberic.

Ada? She had everyone. Didn't matter who it was, she considered everyone her "best friend".

Gwyn swallowed against a lump in her throat. She held the white shawl with the fringe and yellow daisies. Seven months ago, Merry had asked her who it was from.

It was from Ada. Ada had made it on Gwyn's last birthday she had with her sister.

_Oh, Ada, I did love you. Even though I never seemed like it, I really did. You were my sister, my only, baby sister…I miss you, Ada…Ada…_

"Gwyn?" She heard Merry enter the room. He'd heard her faint weeping when he entered his home, and decided to investigate.

"Hey…" Merry came to sit next to her on the bed. He moved to wrap an arm around her and pull her close, but Gwyn pulled away. She felt so guilty. Here was Merry, treating her so tenderly, while not an hour ago she'd treated his cousin like…like Sigi would. "Don't touch me," she choked out, pressing the shawl closer to her body. _Ada, would you hate me? Would you hate me if you heard what I did?_

"Gwyn, what's the matter?" Merry respected her wishes but he stayed, staring at her with concern.

"Merry…" Gwyn pleaded, "…Would you forgive me?"

He blinked, confused. "For what?"

"Anything," Gwyn insisted, "Anything wrong that I'd do—would you forgive me anyway?"

Compassion entered his gentle blue eyes, and he moved closer enough to touch her face. "Gwyn," he answered tenderly, "I would forgive you for anything wrong that you'd do. Do not doubt that. I…" he started to say something else, but he hesitated.

"What?" Gwyn prodded, wanting him to repeat it. What did he want to say? Was it…

Hesitantly, Merry avoided her gaze at first, but then met it bravely. But instead of saying anything, he stroked her cheek, moving his hand to encircle her neck, and he pulled her close. Gwyn's senses nearly dissolved as she realized what he was going to do.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Merry's face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath tickle her face. But he pulled away. Relieved but also disappointed, Gwyn followed him out to the hallway.

Merry knew it wasn't Melonna who was here. Still, he felt oddly annoyed by whoever interrupted him. He _wanted_ to kiss Gwyn. And he didn't care to deny it anymore. He only wanted to know if…Gwyn _did_ return his feelings.

He opened the round door, and at his doorstep stood a thin, pale hobbit with long, stringy black hair. It took a second or two for Merry to remember him. "Griffo Whitfoot?" He blurted out.

Gwyn's brother stared at Merry with a sour, baleful glare. Then his hard stare moved from Merry to over his shoulder, where Gwyn stood with a nervous face.

"So you couldn't stay away from him, eh?" Griffin accused coldly.

Gwyn drew in a deep breath, controlling herself. "I'm happier here, Griffin. Besides, you don't own me." She replied defensively.

Griffin looked away, grunted noncommittally, and sent Merry a grudging look. "May I…may I enter?"

Merry was reluctant to do so, but he complied. Even Gwyn acquiesced. They both moved aside for Griffin to enter.

"Shall I get some tea?" Gwyn offered stiffly, knowing Griffin had a love for tea as well. Griffin shrugged. "Not really. I'm on my way back to Girdley Island. Just came here from a trek to Overhill with Rudy."

"Where is he?" Gwyn asked.

"He's headed for Girdley Island. I'm arriving there myself later." Griffin shuffled across the floor and slumped into a chair by the dining room. Suddenly he seemed so weak, and Gwyn couldn't help but feel worried. "Are you…are you well?" She asked reluctantly. Merry walked into the dining room to stand by Gwyn protectively, but he seemed curious.

"Why do you care?" Griffin coughed a little, glared at Gwyn through tired, saggy eyes, and looked back at the table top. His grimy fingers touched the rim, trailing along it. "I thought since good ol' Hobbiton was here, I'd come to pay my sister a visit. Maybe I'll go to Newbury next. I don' know."

Gwyn's stomach clenched. She felt Merry send her a sad, pointed glance. She knew he was expecting her to break the news to Griffin. She sighed, closed her eyes, and then gathered up her courage. "Griffin, there's…there's something you need to know," she spike through a stilted, unsure tone.

"What's that?" Griffin looked up at her through a bleary expression. That expression suddenly reminded Gwyn of the last time she saw her father. A beautiful mess, he'd called her. One of his last words to her. A tired expression, one of the last looks he'd given her. Like Griffin's.

"Father…died…" Gwyn looked down at her fingers, inwardly cringing. She should've been honest with him and Mama and Cec from the beginning. "…Last week. His funeral was on Saturday."

At first, the words didn't register. Griffin just stared at her as if he'd only just woken up from a deep slumber. And then brief disbelief…and then Griffin looked down. "Oh." He answered simply.

Gwyn watched Griffin sway a little. He was in deep thought. Then he looked up. "I see." He nodded, thinning his lips. "Well…he's in a better place now, I suppose."

Merry watched the scene with surprise. Griffin was handling this very well. Too well…

Gwyn sighed. "You don't have to do this, Griffin. I know you're not fully accepting of this. I'm here for you…"

Griffin gave a bark of laugh. "Oh! And now you're playing the role of the saint, huh, Gwynnie? What happened to the sister who hated me with every fiber of her being two months ago? What happened to the sister who couldn't stand the sight of me and would rather go live with…with the future _Master of Buckland_?"

Gwyn heard Merry's sharp intake of breath. No doubt he was getting fed up with being critically reminded of his future title.

"Griffin, please," Gwyn raised her hands, trying to calm her brother down, "I don't hate you. Yes, I am having a hard time with you, but…I do care about you. I want to help you—"

"Help?" Griffin scoffed. "What about _you_? You're the one who's been wallowing in self-pity and anger in the past three years—"

"Don't speak like a hypocrite, Griffo Whitfoot," Gwyn snapped through gritted teeth, "Look, I've actually changed…but after Father's death, it's really hard to be myself right now. And you are not helping at all, brother. You're still the pathetic lowlife who won't—"

"I'll thank you not to call me those names again, Gwynnie," Griffin roared, rising up to strike her. Gwyn gasped and paled, stepping back, but Merry shouted, "That's _enough_!" He jumped in front of Gwyn and Griffin and tackled the male hobbit to the ground, and they tussled and yelled, both struggling to get the upper hand.

"_MERRY_! _STOP_!" Gwyn screamed, tears running down her face. She trembled, trying to see if she could stop the lads from injuring each other.

Merry punched Griffin in the stomach, and he howled in pain. "All right! All right!" He shouted. "Just get off me and I'll leave!"

Panting heavily, Merry struggled to stand up, holding onto his arm, which Griffin had tried to twist. It was the same arm he used to stab the Witch-king, and it throbbed even more now.

Griffin sneered up at him, spat blood out of his mouth, and rose. He exhaled, averting his hostile stare over to Gwyn. "I came to tell you of news. Something you don't know. Something only Mother, Father, and possibly Cec know. You don't, however." He smirked. "But I guess you don't really need to know. Like I didn't really need to know that my father died. Goodbye…_sister_." With that, he smiled darkly and left the hobbit-hole.

"What did he mean by that?" Merry questioned aloud, his brow furrowed with confusion. Puzzled and shaken, Gwyn quickly ran to the doorway and cried, "Griffin! _Wait_! What do you know?"

Her brother turned around at the bottom of the steps, and he simply grinned coldly, and then he left without a word, and didn't look back. He limped out of the gate just as Melonna walked up to the hobbit-hole.

To Gwyn's surprise, Melonna didn't call him or go after him, and Griffin didn't seem to notice her presence. Melonna walked up to the hobbit-hole with her head downcast. Gwyn's stomach clutched. Melonna must still feel hurt from before. She searched Melonna's face, and was relieved to see that no mark on her face was seen. Her slap hadn't injured her.

"Melonna, what's wrong?" Merry went over and touched her shoulder. Slowly, Melonna's head rose. Sudden tears sprung in her eyes, and her chin quivered.

"You don't kiss a hobbit lass…and then leave her _forever_!" She cried shrilly, bursting into sobs. She broke free from Merry and Gwyn and ran into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Merry and Gwyn exchanged bewildered glances.

Before an awkward silence could pass between them, Merry spoke up, wearing the same reproachful expression Melonna had used on her hours ago. It made Gwyn feel like she was being chastised like a child.

"You know, Gwyn…I think you could have handled things better with your brother if you hadn't let your resentment towards him rule you." Merry commented thoughtfully.

Gwyn's first reaction was to defend herself, but then she remembered Melonna's stricken face when Gwyn hit her. Inwardly shuddering, Gwyn gave in to humility and nodded, defeated. "I know."

"How about you go out, get some air. I have need for eggs and milk; would you mind going to downtown to buy us some?" Merry continued in a gentle voice.

Gwyn nodded silently, in deep thought. "But first," she spoke up, "I do need to apologize to Melonna. I…we had a fight earlier. I want to apologize."

"All right." Merry reached out, gently encircled her upper arms, and kissed her on the forehead. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Gwyn nodded, feeling suddenly dizzy from his kiss. She watched him leave the hobbit-hole, and then she headed for Melonna's bedroom.

She found Melonna lying stomach down on her white-quilted bed. Her head rested on her crossed arms, and her eyes were closed. But Gwyn could tell she wasn't sleeping.

"Melonna," she said her name softly, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She tentatively reached out to stroke Melonna's soft hair. Melonna's opened her eyes and they moved to stare up at Gwyn.

"I'm sorry." Gwyn stated simply.

"I'm sorry, too." Melonna sniffled.

Gwyn couldn't help choking up either. "Melonna, will you forgive me? You…you were right."

Melonna lay still for a second, and then she shifted up to her knees and wrapped her arms around Gwyn's neck. "I forgive you. I love you, Gwyn."

"I love you, too," Gwyn whispered into Melonna's hair, hugging her back. _And I wish Merry would say that to me._

She pulled away. "I'm going to the marketplace to buy eggs and milk. Do you want to come?" She asked cautiously, afraid that Melonna might still be stiff around her. But Melonna only smiled sleepily. "No, thank you, I think I'll be you for today and hide in my room to take a nap."

"All right," Gwyn managed a little smile, a first in a week. She got up to leave.

"Gwyn?"

"Yes?" Brow raised, Gwyn turned back around.

"Why was…why was Griffin here?" Melonna inquired with a puzzled stare.

Gwyn hesitated. "It's…a long story, Melonna. Let's just say his actions convinced me of my mistake to hide important information from him."

"Mmm. I see." Melonna was listening intently, but her closed eyes indicated she was slowly falling asleep. Gwyn took this opportunity to leave.

Not a half-hour later, Gwyn had arrived into the marketplace, and she went for the dairy products shop first. It was an underground store, so the dairy foods could stay fresh for longer.

Gwyn stepped down the creaky wooden steps, feeling silly for fearing that they would break down under her weight.

She searched for the largest carton of milk, and then brought it over to the payment desk. A gentlehobbit was there first, so she waited behind him. He was tall and had a stocky stature, like her brother Cec. But his hair was light brown, curly, and reached down to his shoulders. Cec kept his hair just at the line of his neck, black and slightly combed.

Gwyn sighed, aching to see her brother once again. He'd seemed so sad last week at the funeral. Well, of course he would be…

Gwyn started, realizing her sigh had brought attention upon her. The hobbit in front of her turned around and stared at her curiously for a moment. Gwyn looked up into his eyes on impulse, and nearly jumped at the intense dark blue gaze. It looked bizarrely familiar.

"_Ella_?" The hobbit man whispered hoarsely, his eyes widening.

Gwyn cocked her head, confused and a little nervous. "I'm…I'm sorry, my name's not Ella," she stammered.

The hobbit shook his head in horror. Watching her in shock, he clumsily gathered up his block of cheese and carton of milk, and he left the shop quickly, but he kept looking back at her in bewilderment.

Gwyn shook her head, now a little irritated. She didn't have the slightest idea of why he looked at her like that. Maybe she looked like his late wife or a long-lost daughter or something. She stepped forward and purchased the milk, determined to forget the man who's stared at her as if she was an…an Orc!

She left the shop and headed for the meat shop, also located underground.

"Oi! Gwyn!" A female voice called her to attention. Gwyn turned around to see Berylla Sandyman sauntering over cheerfully, and to her dismay, the same strange gentlehobbit at her elbow. He still stared at her, but did so more discreetly.

"Gwyn, this is my fiancé, Ed. Ed, this is Gwyn Whitfoot. She's a new friend of mine," Berry grinned warmly, and Gwyn couldn't help but return the gesture. She avoided Ed's penetrating gaze.

Ed disengaged from Berry's arm and headed over to the stables. "I'll get the horses," he announced, taking off. He ignored Gwyn pointedly.

"Honestly, Ed, where are your manners?" Berry called after him. She shook her head. "Sorry about that. He'd just told me about you—said he saw someone who looked just like his sister."

"Sister?" Gwyn's eyebrows shot up. _Ah, that explains it._

"Yes," Berry lamented, "Ed's mother died when he was really young. His depressed father, feeling that his daughter needed a mother in her life, left the poor girl at her aunt's doorstep. Ed hasn't seen her since. But he can remember her curly hair so clearly, and the rag doll with a funny name she always had with her. And that ugly orange dress Ed would tease her about. Because of that, Ed just…hates orange. It makes him sad; he misses his Ella. Last he heard, Ella died in a mill accident three years ago, kind of like your sister's unfortunate demise."

A foreboding feeling rose up in Gwyn. Why did that sound so familiar?

Berry smiled sadly. "I wish Ella was here. I would have loved to have a sister-in-law. I'm an only child, you know."

A voice inside Gwyn's head demanded her to flee, but she felt an unknown force keep her captive in her footsteps. Before she could stop herself, she murmured a statement that really sounded more like a question, "The rag doll's name was Raspberry."

Berry looked startled. "Why, yes," she replied, "How did you know—"

"What was the girl's name again?" Gwyn cried, demanding an answer, "_Ella_?"

"Ella," Berry repeated, looking wary, "Short for Estella Bolger."

Unbidden, Gwyn's eyesight grew hazy with blurred images, images of…

Little hands fingering a soft, limp doll with one missing button eye and torn-out red yarn hair. Curly hair brushing across round cheeks. An orange dress with a silky red sash around the waist. It rustled slightly in the breeze.

"_We'll be back, Ella. I promise…"_

Terrified and overwhelmed, Gwyn shook her head, stepping back. "I…I have to go," she cried frantically, running away, and ignoring Berry's concerned call.

She raced down the road out of downtown, but she knew that running would do her no good to get rid of those confusing images in her head. She took a sharp turn to avoid an incoming wagon, and she made a beeline through the forest.

Her pounding footsteps led her to an opening before a creek. It flowed steadily. Panting, Gwyn sat down with a _thump_ and let her feet into the cool water. She shuddered as the cold current shot chills up her legs.

"_Where are you going, Papa? Why are you leaving me here?"_

"_Shh, my little Ella…I'll come back for you…"_

"_I won't miss that stupid dress you always wear, Ella, but I can't wait to see you again…I'll teach you how to use a slingshot when we come back…"_

"_Raspberry says bye-bye to you, Papa! You, too, Freddy! Come back soon…come back soon…"_

Gwyn was near to the point of hyperventilating. What were those pictures in her head? Who were the faceless man and little boy speaking in her head? Who was _Ella_?

"Estella Bolger," Gwyn dared to speak aloud the name.

But this time, no visions appeared in her head. Gwyn gripped the cartons of eggs and milk close to her, wondering at the…visions she had. Were they…memories? Was this Estella a childhood friend of hers? It had to be. Or was Estella…_Ada_?

But she remembered dark curly hair. Not tawny and wavy. And Ada always disliked rag dolls. In fact, when she was two-almost-three and Gwyn was six, Ada had ripped up Gwyn's rag doll. _"Scawy beady bwack eyes!"_ She'd pouted. Mama gave her a time-out for ruining Gwyn's toy. And Gwyn had screamed, _"You're not my sister anymore!"_

And Ada's sweetly toothy grin and innocently cryptic answer had confused Gwyn. _"No, Gwynnie. You're not."_

You're not.

You're not.

A ragged breath escaped Gwyn.

_No, Ada is not Estella. Estella must be…_

A rustle in the bushes startled her, and Gwyn yelped, twisting around. She sighed in relief when she saw Sam and Pippin come into the clearing, with fishing caps and poles.

"Hullo, Gwyn!" Pippin smiled brightly as he came down to sit next to her. Sam sat next to Pippin. "Hullo, Miss Gwyn," he smiled shyly, "What brings you here?"

It was when Gwyn avoided their gazes when the hobbit lads knew something was wrong. "Why, Miss Gwyn, what's botherin' you?" Sam asked.

"You look…scared, and sad," Pippin observed with solicitude.

Gwyn darted a glance at the two lads, who'd slowly become quite good friends to her in the past seven months. Sam was like the shyer version of Cec, and Pippin reminded Gwyn vaguely of Ilberic. The jokester, the fun-lover. And Gwyn felt she could trust them.

"I may sound crazy…" Gwyn commented with a catch in her voice, "…But I don't think I am really me."

Sam tilted his head to one side, his and Pippin's fishing gear forgotten. The lads peered down at her with gentle heed.

"I…I've just had this strangest memory," Gwyn explained haltingly, "And I…I remember some things…that I never remembered before. An orange dress with a black silk sash. I hate silk. A rag doll named Raspberry. I love raspberries. An unfamiliar voice or two in my head, and I do not know who they are." Gwyn shook her head and drew up her knees out of the water, pushing her elbows against them and running her fingers through her unkempt hair. "I must be crazy." She whispered.

"Do you…do you remember your early childhood?" Pippin asked. Gwyn could tell by his voice that he believed her, and wanted to reduce her confusion.

"I don't remember anything from before the age of six," Gwyn admitted, "Most hobbits can remember earlier than that, but not me. I never was good with memorizing and…all that."

"Hmm." Sam set aside his fishing pole, frowned in consideration, and then remarked, "I, uh, I don't rightly know what to say, Miss Gwyn…but I think the best solution would be to go see your mum, ask her about those things you remember."

"Aye," Pippin interjected, "If it's anyone who can help you with certain things from your past, it's probably your mother."

Gwyn raised her head and stared at her friends through tired, overwhelmed eyes. But Sam and Pippin's advice did help; she now knew what the reasonable thing was to do.

She smiled slightly, affectionately. She reached over and touched Sam's hand gently, and sent Pippin a grateful glance. "Thank you, Sam, Pippin. I think…I think I'll do that now." She rose to her feet and tried to hide her shakiness.

"Anytime, Gwyn…don't get lost!" Pippin's voice called after her. Gwyn suppressed a slight snigger. Dear Pippin, he knew of her recent troubled time and just how to help relieve her. And Sam…he certainly was wiser than he seemed. Rosie was a lucky lass—and a wise one, at that, to choose Sam.

And now, to tell Merry about her latest mission.

"At this hour? I don't think so," Merry objected, pacing across the dining room floor. He placed his right hand on his hip, a stance that implied he wasn't going to give up without a fight.

"Merry, it's not that dark out yet—"

"It's a nearly two-hour ride to Newbury, Gwyn! Can't you wait until morning?" Merry pleaded, whirling around to face the dark-haired lass who had a similar stance as his, clearly refusing to budge in her decision.

"No!" Gwyn emphatically retorted. "This is important."

"You haven't told me _what_ it is," Merry insisted through gritted teeth. He did not want Gwyn to travel out alone in the dark. Especially if wild animals—or Sigi—prowled out there.

Gwyn sighed, flailing her hands slightly. "It's…complicated," she walked past him, her thin shoulder brushing against his. "I don't know how to say it."

Frustrated, Merry turned on his heel and stalked over to Gwyn, who stood beside the doorframe, clutching it. "If you told Sam and Pippin, then you can tell me."

"It was hard for me to tell them!" Gwyn cried out, twisting around. She nearly jumped at how close Merry was to her.

"Gwyn, just…just tell me. In however way you want," Merry softened his tone, trying to reason with her.

She relented. She looked down and said softly, "It's…my memories. I saw Berry and her fiancé earlier, and…he looked familiar. And Berry described a sad story from Ed's past…a story that made me remember something, Merry," Gwyn raised her gaze to his deep blue eyes, "And I don't know what it is. So I have to go back to Newbury, and ask my mother. She must know what I remember."

"That's…confusing," Merry muttered the first thing that came to his mind. Gwyn rolled her eyes and shot him an I-told-you-so look. She pushed slightly against his chest so she could have easy access out of the way.

"There you have it, Merry," she declared as she headed for the door, "Now good-night. Tell Melonna that, too."

"Wait," she heard his quiet voice, and something made her stop and turn around.

Merry stared at her through a slightly afraid, saddened gaze. "Can I just help you with the ponies?"

Relieved that he wasn't going to argue with her again, Gwyn nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

The night air was surprisingly fair and everything was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of a bug and the hollow echo of an owl. The horizon was fading from a bright orange to a faint pink. After the pink passed, purple and then midnight blue would replace it. Midnight blue…Merry thought of Gwyn's eyes. He missed the shine that came out of them when she smiled or laughed.

The shadows across Merry's property made it difficult for them to see, so Merry lit a lantern hanging over the stables. Sage and Posie awoke and nickered curiously.

"Steady on, Posie," Merry soothed her, "Gwyn is going to take you for a nice, quiet ride to Newbury tonight. And if you're good, she'll give you a sugar cube." Merry pulled Posie out of her stall. "Will you need a wagon?" He queried. Gwyn shook her head no.

"All right." Merry put the saddle and reins over Posie. He'd chosen Posie because she was a safer pony: easier with newer riders and less easily spooked than Sage. He led Posie out to the driveway. "Need help getting on her?" He asked.

"No, thank you."

Gwyn swept past Merry and took Posie's reins. But before she hoisted herself up, she paused and glanced back at Merry. Unbidden, a stirring rose up in his heart.

Gwyn's eyes suddenly seemed glassy with tears, but she blinked rapidly, and then slowly, hesitantly, she reached up, crept her hand around Merry's neck, and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Merry's insides melted, and he feared his knees would give away. Gwyn's mouth felt cool and soft against his, but when he touched her arm to pull her closer, she backed away.

Her kiss had been too gentle and short, and yet it made his senses nearly explode. He held back a sigh as he gazed down at Gwyn's worried face. She flushed a bit and quickly jumped upon Posie. She rode away and didn't look back.

But he kept his eyes on her until she was long gone.

* * *

He watched the wretched shrew place her filthy hands on that filthy future Master of Buckland. _That vile, conniving seductress…she's _mine_!_ And when she kissed him, it took all of his willpower not to leap out of the bushes and attack the lad who'd put a spell over _his _girl.

_She's _mine_. And she'll learn to be _mine_. Oh, you'll be so sorry. You'll be sorry…_

* * *

**A/N: As one of my reviewers estie793 once stated, "Holy cow, hobbit drama!" Yep, that's pretty much what's on my mind right now. ;)**

**Thank you! :)**


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